An eye for an eye
by Maria86
Summary: One night, Emily becomes the victim of a revenge, and decides to take justice in her own hands. The team must follow the trail to protect her. Focus on Emily/Hotch but no direct pairing. Don't own Criminal Minds
1. Chapter 1

**An eye for an eye**

**Chapter 1 : Running away**

The quiet lanes of Montclair were only disturbed at this late hour of the night by a black sedan driving crazily on the main road. A brunette was at the wheel, all disheveled and bruised. Emily Prentiss was beyond crying at that point. The tears had been shed half an hour earlier, as she had sat down in her car and the shock had kicked in. She wiped off some blood dripping from the corner of her mouth, where a balled fist had collided, and looked at herself in the rear-view window. There was not much on the road to concentrate on anyway. A car would cross her path from time to time, and a horn honking would remind the brunette of the unreasonable speed with which she was taking the intersections. But at the moment, all she cared about was arriving at the commercial airport of Washington. She was running away from all the support she had, but she didn't see any other way out. The woman was so blinded by rage and an urge for revenge that she had not thought twice before leaving her apartment. She had left everything behind, only grabbing her purse, badge and gun. This could be useful. Spare clothing and a toothbrush were not, not for the purpose of her visit to Texas.

Reaching the fast lane, she doubled another blue car and made sure she wasn't over the speed limit. Getting stopped by road police would delay her plans, and she could not bear that. The brunette shook of memories of the past hours, which had become a blur anyway. All she could remember was the fight, the blood on her hands, the gun which had fallen out of her hands, the empty glass smashed on her head, the sound of rustling next door, when the neighbor had woken up to check what was going on. In less than thirty minutes, Emily Prentiss had reached Dulles International Airport, safe and sound, which came as a surprise given the way she had driven and the little attention she had paid to the other drivers. Pulling into the parking lot, the brunette checked one last time her overall appearance. The cut on her forehead was nasty and swollen, but she managed to hide most of it with her voluminous hair. She didn't want to scare off the stewardess, even though she could probably get away with anything, being an FBI agent. Looking distractfully at her watch, Emily realized that it was almost three in the morning. Time seemed to have flown by without her noticing. The next flight would probably be boarding in less than two hours, she thought to herself, hurrying towards the booking desk.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: English is not my mother language and I am my own Beta. Please be indulgent on any mistakes that would have found their way through the text.**

**Chapter 2: In slow motion**

The dark-haired man's eyes fluttered open as a well-known ringtone troubled his dreams. Instead of shooting up in bed like all normal day-working people would have done, he calmly stretched an arm to get the cell phone lying on the drawer. He was so used to these late night calls that he didn't even check the ID. It could only be JJ, the face of the team, who had been awoken in emergency because a child was missing or another murder committed.

"JJ, I hope this _really _is an emergency. We have not been getting much sleep in the last days…"

As someone cleared his – or her, for that matter – voice on the other end of the line, Hotch became a little more self-conscious, and straightened up in bed.

"Agent Hotchner, I am very sorry to wake you up. This is Erin Strauss."

This couldn't be good, thought the exhausted man, using his free hand to turn on the bedside lamp and getting rid of the blankets in which he had been wrapped in.

"What's wrong?" he simply asked. If it had been a new case, JJ would have called. For Erin Strauss to be on duty in the middle of the night meant either that it was a personal matter – which he hoped not, given the lack of sympathy he had for this woman – or that a member of his team was injured – which he hoped even less.

"I was just informed by local police that two dead bodies were found at SSA Prentiss' apartment, less than an hour ago."

Hotch, who was now very much awake and already hurrying to his closet for some fresh clothes, held his breath.

"Is she…?"

"We don't know for sure. The description says that there was a woman and a man. Both stabbed."

A shiver ran down Aaron Hotchner's spine. He was trying unsuccessfully to put on his pants one-handedly, and the shaking through his fingers did not help.

"I'm on my way."

"I take it you have the address. Please keep the matter quiet until a proper identification has been done." Strauss sounded human, for once, although her choice of words still was unfortunate.

"Have you called Emily's mother?" Hotch asked, rubbing his forehead as we was trying to gather the strength not to fall on his knees, in the middle of his bedroom, which would undoubtedly be heard by the Department Chief.

"Not yet. I thought you would want to go first." For once, he was really glad for her delicacy. In the time when she had suspended him and taken his place in the field, Erin Strauss could not have missed the strong bond uniting the team members, who had grown to become a real family. If there was bad news to be announced – which Hotch could not even think of, or he would start to cry – he was in the best position to tell the others, as well as Emily's parents.

"Alright, thank you for letting me know."

"Keep me in the loop, please." She insisted on the last word before hanging up the phone. Strauss was the one to recruit Emily Prentiss, and she had grown quite fond of the younger brunette, despite their hen fight over Hotch's abilities to lead the BAU.

Aaron Hotchner stood still for a few seconds, in the middle of his bedroom, one arm tucked into the sleeve of his T-shirt. He had to take a deep breath and make some arrangements, as the little six-years-old Jack could not be left on his own while his dad was gone. Thankfully, Haley's sister had moved in not far from them to be able to give Jack's father a hand in raising the little Hotchner. He dialed the number he now knew by heart and immediately reassured his step-sister, who had gotten panicked at the sound of the phone ringing at four in the morning. After assuring her that Jack and himself were alright, he explained the situation and waited ten minutes for her to come over, still in her pajamas, to look after Jack.

When Hotch stopped the car in front of Emily's apartment building, which he had visited on seldom occasions, two ambulances were already parked near the main entrance, along with several police cars. The man shoved his badge at the next officer.

"Good morning. I am SSA Hotchner, this is one of my agents' apartment. Can you tell me what happened while we go up?"

The uniform nodded and led the way inside the apartment building.

"A neighbor called around two thirty to tell that she had heard rustling and fighting next door. When we arrived, we found two dead bodies: a younger woman, brunette, and a man in his forties, both stabbed to death." After he had heard _brunette_, Hotch had lost the meaning of the conversation. As though on autopilot, he followed the inspector to the fourth floor, remembering too well how he had come here previously to make sure his agent was getting home safely.

The place was swarming with policemen and CSI agents. As they penetrated in the apartment, Hotch immediately spotted two forms on the ground, who had both been covered to preserve what little was left of their dignity. Walking to the smaller silhouette, he hesitated for a moment, oblivious to the rest of the world. His hands were shaking and face had gone pale, so that the Medical Examiner, who had come to state the time of death, looked up to the man.

"Are you here to identify the victims?" Hotch snapped out of his nightmare at the sound of the man's voice.

"Yes. Can you show me the woman?"

As the blanket was lifted, Hotch hesitated between crying and laughing. Punching something or screaming out his frustration would have done as well, for that matter.

"This is not her." He whispered, brushing a tired hand over his hair and turning to the policeman. "This is not her."

"So you confirm that this is not Emily Prentiss?"

"She's far too young. It's not her. Excuse me a moment, I have some questions for you but I just need to check something first."

Hotch passed by the CSU agents taking fingerprints on the doorknob and kitchen counter, and walked out in the corridor to take a deep breath. He simultaneously grabbed his cell phone, now very happy that he hadn't called anyone of the team. He wouldn't advise what he had just gone through to anyone else.

"Hello, you've reached Emily Prentiss. You know what you have to do…" The man shut angrily the phone, trying to keep control over his worry, which was growing once again. Day or night, Emily would always be reachable on her cell. Plus, he was positive she had gone straight home after the long day they had had.

Hotch turned around to return in the apartment. Now that his worst fear had been somewhat calmed down, he could take in all the tiny details he hadn't paid attention to before. The door had not been forced, which meant that Emily had come in of her own free will. The first body, that of the girl, was lying a few feet from the main door, well in sight to anyone who would come in. The corpse of the man, on the hand, was a mess: he was lying on his stomach, from what Hotch could see when the medical examiner lifted the blanket, was clutching the rest of a glass in his hand and had a torn T-shirt. Everything hinted to a fight, and Hotch didn't know whether to feel relief or concern: Emily had been alive long enough to put up a fight, but she could also be bleeding to death somewhere… He shook these thoughts off his mind, as the inspector approached him.

"Did you manage to contact your agent?"

"No, it went straight to voice mail. Can you fill me in on the details?"

"Well, the legist says the girl died of a clean stab wound about five hours ago, around the same time as the man. The latter has cuts and bruises all over his arms and face. Someone apparently fought him before stabbing him."

"Could it be self-defense?" The medical examiner stood up to join the two men.

"The fingerprints will tell us whether it was the same person who killed both victims. But you are right, it looks like self-defense. The woman was killed methodically, whereas _he_ was victim of a single knife wound, harsh and not premeditated."

Hotch had remained silent, taking in the scene in front of him.

"Who is leading the case?"

"Homicide." Of course, there was no reason yet that the case would be federal. But hell, it was Emily Prentiss they were talking about. An FBI agent who, as far as he knew, had gone missing in the course of the night. There was no way that he would let this slip out of his fingers.

"Garcia?" Although his mind was racing a hundred miles an hour, he tried to soften his voice so as not to startle the sleepy analyst.

"Hotch?"

"Are you near a computer?"

"Boss man, my loyal companions are always near me… But, with all due respect, you should check your watch before calling."

"I know it's late…"

"Early, rather."

"Garcia!" The word slipped off his tongue before he could suppress the annoyed tone, causing the analyst to hold her breath in expectation.

"Sorry." He quickly added in a much softer tone. "I need you to do me a favor without telling anyone."

"Shoot, boss man." On the other end of the line, Hotch could already hear the blonde fighting with her blankets, walking, then pressing a few buttons to get her material to life.

"I need you to track Emily's cell phone. It's out at the moment, can you still do it?"

"Well, technically, no. I can trace it back to the last time it was used, and put up an alert to triangulate the device as soon as she switches it on." Despite the banality of her declaration – she spent her life tracking people and electronic devies – there seemed to be hesitation on the blonde's side. "Is something wrong with Emily?" she added.

Hotch suppressed a sigh. This is exactly why he didn't want the news to spread through the team for now – he couldn't waste any more minute dealing with the worry and questions to would undoubtedly arise.

"Garcia, you keep this to yourself until the morning. Emily went missing."

"Oh God. Where are you?"

"At Emily's apartment. Two dead bodies were found."

"Oh God."

"Garcia, calm down." No, he really couldn't deal with the wave of panic overwhelming his colleague right now. He had to focus.

"Sorry. Hotch?"

"Yeah?" he answered absentmindedly, still watching the policemen, both uniform and civil, swarming around the living room where he had last stood telling his agent to sleep and forget about another gruesome case.

"Are we working the case?"

"Not really. It's the homicide department, nothing federal."

"Okay. Take. Pictures." She pronounced with exaggeration so as to make her point. "Of the victims. The apartment. You know these people, they are going to shut you out of the case."

He couldn't believe how cold-headed Garcia had remained. Sometimes he would forget that she too was an agent, aware of all the little jurisdictional fights. "Got it." He said and shut the phone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: In the air**

The brunette watched sideways at the man seated near the window. She had not missed the regular glances he greeted her with from time to time, and the extra time he had taken to get out of his seat for the toilets while she was waiting, trying to ignore his flirtatious smile. For one, it was a little early in the morning for seduction games. Second, Emily was already having a hard time keeping the tears at bay without having to deal with her neighbor as well. She frowned as she brushed a hand through her hair and inadvertently touched the bruised skin at the base of her scalp. In the restrooms of Dulles International Airport, she had managed to stop the blood flow and cover the red and swollen cut with a little powder – which she always kept in her purse, for occasions like this. But there was unfortunately no make up to cover the hollowness in her eyes or the paleness of her cheeks.

She tried to fight off the memories from the night before but they kept coming back, growing in presence and realism. The last word the girl had said echoed through her brain, this word she had never heard, at least not directed at her. Then the man had moved the kitchen knife with shaking hands, cutting the throat of the young woman, only just out of her teenage years and already on her way to the cemetery. Emily had watched helplessly as she fell onto the ground, blood pouring from her open wound. The lack of reaction had told Emily that the girl was dead on impact, or had passed out, which was probably for the best. The FBI agent she was had not had the time to draw her gun, not even to catch the girl before her head collided with the wooden floor. Emily grimaced as she remembered the impact of the glass on her head. The man obviously hadn't wanted to kill her, or he would have gone straight for the knife. And, if Emily hadn't been so stubborn to grab his feet and make him fall to the ground, he would probably have gotten away unharmed.

"Coffee?" The brunette flinched at the sound of a caring voice just above her head, and she tried to smile politely as the stewardess poured her a cup of coffee. She would need that if she wanted to have her mind clear. Looking at her wrist watch, Emily realized that she had not slept for over 28 hours, not counting the ten minutes nap she had taken in the jet, on their way back from Florida.

Soon, the captain announced that the plane would land within twenty minutes, and the brunette closed her eyes, trying to focus on what was to come. On the job she had to do. The man she had to hunt down.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Unanswered questions**

Reid penetrated in the conference room, three minutes ahead of everyone, as usual. The huge mug in his hands seemed far too heavy for him, but his colleagues had grown used to the unreasonable amount of coffee this frail man would ingurgitate day after day. Sitting down around the circular table, the doctor flipped open the book he was currently reading, to get his mind busy until the others were there. Soon enough, the blonde communication liaison officer strolled into the room with a stack of files under her arm.

"Hello, genius." She said absentmindedly, sitting down across from the younger agent.

"Morning, JJ. So, what's our case today?"

JJ frowned, flipping through her different files without looking up.

"In fact, I am not so sure… I can't remember presenting any new case to Hotch… unless I've been sleepwalking, which would not be surprising given the little sleep we have had lately."

Reid raised an eyebrow and turned to Dave Rossi and Derek Morgan, who seemed to be in deep debate.

"Hey, do you know who called for a meeting?"

"Hotch sent us both a message." Morgan answered, making his way to the seat nearest to the screen.

"Do you know what it's about? Nothing's come over my desk since we've returned yesterday." JJ intervened. She had checked: all her files were still on her desk this morning, so no one had been snooping around, taking some of her work while she was asleep. She sighed. This would be too great.

As Aaron Hotchner exited the elevator, his briefcase in hand, he didn't miss the few disapproving glances from fellow profilers. Even though he had headed home for a short time before coming to the Bureau, he had not gathered the courage to change into a proper suit. He seriously didn't care at the moment, although he agreed that the sight of SSA Hotchner in a casual T-shirt and jacket instead of the shirt and tie could surprise more than one. On autopilot, the man jogged up the few stairs to the conference room, where he was greeted by five pairs of worried eyes.

"Oh, Bossman is a little casual today… What's the occasion?" Morgan couldn't help noting when the chief unit greeted them with a nod and put his briefcase on the circular table a little too briskly.

Derek's smirk quickly faded as they all took in the look on their boss' face.

"Is everything okay?" JJ asked, her eyes bouncing from one person to another to observe the others' reaction.

"No. Thank you for coming in early."

At that moment, Garcia strolled into the conference room, making herself tiny as she took the last available seat, near the door. From the looks on her face and the fact that she didn't throw a joke or smirk at anyone, the others guessed that she was in the confidence already.

"Aaron?" Rossi intervened. The palpable tension in the room was killing him.

"Emily went missing last night. There was a fight at her apartment, two bodies were found. She was already gone and no one has seen her since."

For a few seconds, the agents were so stunned that neither of them answered.

"Garcia, the pictures, please." With a single nod, the blonde analyst sent the pictures downloaded from Hotch's phone onto the screen on the wall.

"Strauss called me to inform me that a murder had been signaled at Emily's address. I went over to check it was not her."

"And it's not… is it?" JJ interrupted. Although the first statement had been quite clear, she just _had_ to make sure.

"No." the man, visibly exhausted and tensed, replied in a sigh. "They found a woman and a man. Everything is not yet clear, but apparently the woman's throat was cut first, then the man got in a fight – with Emily, I would guess – and was stabbed in the stomach."

"And she didn't stay?" Derek voiced what everyone had been thinking. Emily Prentiss running away. "This isn't like her."

"I agree." Hotch replied, looking back at the gruesome pictures. "I tried to call her but her phone is off. As soon as she turns it back on, Garcia will be able to trace it."

"She might be hurt." JJ said, looking at an empty spot on the table. She was still under shock.

"Who is working the case?" Derek asked, his eyes fixed on the pictures showing a young woman in her twenties, eyes wide open in shock.

"Homicide. As there is no intra-state connection for now, there is no reason to make it federal." Hotch had kept his hands in his pockets, partly because he was still shaking slightly from worry and lack of sleep.

"No reason? She's one of us."

"Morgan, even if they decided to make it federal, we unfortunately would not be allowed to interfere."

The way Hotch held his agent's gaze told him how much he agreed and resented these idiotic rules.

"Let's keep it quiet then." He finally added, meeting approving looks on the six faces.

"Do we know the identity of the victims?" Reid intervened. He couldn't help thinking, now that the picture of the young woman was displayed on the screen, that she looked a lot like their missing colleague.

"Garcia?" Hotch turned to their technical analyst, who became all flustered at once.

"Um… I ran the pictures you sent me through our database. And both the woman and the man had a match."

"Go on." Hotch couldn't have been more surprised. He knew Garcia was a great asset to the team, but the task seemed a little too easy at once.

"Jeffrey Richards, 48, was prison guard at the Central Kansas Prison Facility for over ten years. His criminal records are all clear and he even was rewarded as a model state employee two years in a row."

"Family?"

"A wife and two children, aged 7 and 10."

"And the girl?" Derek asked. If the history of the man couldn't give them any hint as for the reason of this bloodshed, maybe it was linked to the first victim.

Hotch's eyes narrowed as the analyst stopped typing at her keyboard. She opened her mouth to say something but seemed to think how to rephrase it.

"Garcia?" he pressed with an annoyed tone. They couldn't waste any minute.

"I'm not sure how to tell you this."

"Shoot, baby girl." Derek leaned forward to make her feel more comfortable. Garcia was buried half of the time in her bunker and was not used at having so many spectators at once.

"The girl appears in the adoption register for the state of New York, under the name Lizzie Mayers. Previously Lizzie Prentiss."

"I don't follow you…" Hotch leaned forward, putting both hands on the table to support his weight.

"Prentiss… as in 'sister of Emily Prentiss'? Niece? Cousin?... What?" JJ locked with her female friend's eyes, praying her to continue.

"Rather daughter."

Hotch felt as though someone had just kicked the air out of his lungs. There was nothing of the kind in Emily's personal file, although he had never failed to notice how good Emily was with children.

"Are you sure?" he heard himself ask absentmindedly.

"Positive. The girl was born in the Albany Medical Center, on August the 8th 1990 and immediately given in for adoption. She stayed a few years in state care and had been living with the same family since 1994."

Silence fell over the team like a cover of snow, numbing all the emotions and answers, until Hotch cleared his throat.

"Did anyone of you know about this?"

He was very surprised when Rossi's head shot up. "Yes and no."

Hotch raised a questioning glare. "And by that you mean…" Derek said, once again the first to jump to the question everyone had been asking silently.

"She told me that she had been pregnant at a very young age. But she said she had had an abortion."

"Why didn't she tell us?" Reid asked.

"Reid, giving away your child is a heartbreaking thing to do. I think she just doesn't want to be reminded of that twenty years later…" Hotch spoke without realizing.

"How do we know that anyway?" Reid said, glancing around to find his colleagues staring blankly at him. "I mean, aren't these registers supposed to be secret?"

"Not if you don't want them to be. Emily purposely left her name for her daughter to find if she so wished." At the realization, Hotch couldn't suppress a sigh, and he closed his eyes just for a second, long enough however for Rossi and JJ to notice.

"What's bugging you?" Rossi asked, not leaving his eyes off his long-time friend.

"I'm just thinking that the first and only time Emily saw her daughter, it was to see her die."

This bold statement brought everyone back into their thoughts. A very dark place full of unanswered questions and worry concerning their missing friend.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note: first, thank you for the comments. Second: you will notice that I used a character whom we came across in the show. I kind of changed the ending for him - if I remember well, he died in the real episode. **

**Chapter 5: Pieces of the puzzle**

Hotch was pacing back and forth, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to see the distressed look of JJ and the deep thoughts plastered over Reid and Morgan's face. He had to let them a minute, just a minute, to let the news sink in, before they went on with their profile.

"Does Emily's family know?" JJ suddenly asked, returning to the reality of things.

"I don't think so. Strauss wanted to let us in the confidence first."

"You should call her mother. It would be best coming from you…" Rossi added.

Nodding in a very mechanical way, Hotch retreated in thoughts for a moment. Fortunately, his last encounter with Elizabeth Prentiss had been concluded with a family reunited and a general satisfaction of a good job done. But still, the Ambassador didn't like her daughter being in the field, and would probably bite his head off if he was the one to tell her about Emily's disappearance. On the other hand, she might know more about Lizzie and the reason for her presence in Washington.

"I would like to know where Emily is first…" he almost whispered, brushing a tired hand over his face, soothing the wrinkles on his forehead.

"Baby girl, can you find any connection between Emily and this Jeffrey Richards? Or Lizzie Prentiss' family and him?"

"Sugar, you have to feed me with a little more. What am I searching for?"

Reid leaned forward. The way his hands were intertwined and his eyebrows furrowed, everyone could see the young doctor' mind was racing much faster than the others'.

"Well, if this guy is a prison guard, maybe he fraternized with one of the inmates. Crosscheck the names of people we put in prison over the last… five years Emily has worked on the team."

Morgan nodded but raised a hand to interrupt the analyst. The younger agent had made a good point although he had not gotten to the end of the reasoning.

"Hold on. Widen the search to Emily's files _before_ she joined the BAU. She had been in the field almost five years before coming here. There is no reason we should concentrate on our own doing."

"On it." With a single nod, Garcia turned fully to her computer and became oblivious to everything and everyone around her.

"Okay, about the girl now. Did Emily say anything about her plans last night? Was this visit programmed?" As he asked, Hotch looked more particularly at JJ, guessing that the two women in the group would share more of their personal life than with their other team mates.

"Nothing that I know of. We landed past midnight. I can't imagine this young girl waiting for Emily at this hour of the night." JJ answered, avoiding her superior's gaze.

"So maybe she showed up unannounced or she was with someone."

"Jeffrey Richards?" Rossi added, following the reasoning to its end.

"Which means she was abducted? Where did Lizzie live? Garcia?"

"Sorry, Bossman, only got two hands… So, no match still for the prison guard. You guys deal with far too many maniacs and murderers for my likings… As for Lizzie Mayers… Davenport, Indiana."

Hotch resumed his pacing, his hands propped on his hips to give himself some sort of countenance. Everything was spinning too fast around him. Emily had a daughter and an unknown connection with a prison guard, a former inmate probably had a grudge against her… In the state he was in, Hotch didn't manage to think clear anymore. Simply linking A to B was beginning to prove difficult.

"Oh, oh." His eyes focused on the blonde analyst when she uttered these two words.

"What is it?"

"I found no less than six matchs in Central Kansas Prison Facility."

"That many?" JJ widened her eyes as the number sank in. Well, it seemed logical: if they were dealing with one case per week, this would make an awful lot of people over five years, not even counting the numerous perpetrators the brunette had put behind bars while a tradition field agent. JJ just hoped that Reid wouldn't jump in with some more statistics, but the doctor seemed too stunned to say anything.

"We are listening." Hotch's eyes locked with Garcia's.

"Joseph Schrader, three counts of murder and three counts of abduction. Timothy Williams, five counts of rape and aggravated assault. Blair Jeffrey, aggravated assault on officer of the state. Matthew McDolanney, professional arsonist and three counts of rape. Then we have… Michael Gyder and Johnny Callaway, both deceased."

"Any of the names ring a bell?" Rossi's eyes were carefully observing his colleagues. Although he had read a lot of their case files before joining the team, the man had never had a good memory for names.

"I remember Schrader all too well…" Derek groaned, leaning back into his chair.

"Fill me in." Garcia asked without looking up. In the course of the last months, and although she had always stayed reachable for the team, the analyst had tried to get some distance from the cases, only taking in the necessary details to do her work properly.

"The guy had killed his wife as she filed for sole custody, and abducted his 13-year-old daughter. We hunted him down, he escaped and killed a cop… And got Emily into a car accident. In fact, she played a major role in finally arresting him."

Garcia nodded, continuing to type frantically on her keyboard to find any other detail that could confirm Schrader's implication in Emily's disappearance.

"Matthew McDolanney also was a case we worked together, I would say three to four years ago." Reid interfered. "He was attacking single women of the upper class, raping them then burning down their house. We found him thanks to the latest victim, who had survived the blast."

"Have any of these men been released?" Hotch was holding onto the back of his chair like a lifeline. He feared that, if he let go, he might just let his emotions take the better of him and slump onto the ground.

"Apart from the two above-mentioned who left the prison feet first… Blair Jeffrey was released six months ago for good conduct."

As hard as he tried to remember every Unsub's name – and victim's name, for that matter – Aaron Hotchner could not find any clue leading Blair Jeffrey. He assumed that the man must be out of Emily's past as a field agent. Given the silence Reid had drifted in, Hotch guessed he was right, or the younger agent would already have stepped in and recited the report as though he had written it himself.

"We will have to talk to Lizzie's parents to know in what circumstances she disappeared. JJ, you are in charge of that. Reid and Rossi, I suggest you go with Garcia and track down Jeffrey." Now that they had a lead, they had to act quickly and swiftly. "And as I said, this has to be kept _quiet_, understood? Otherwise we'll be shut out completely."

"And what about Emily?" JJ had stood up to leave, deciding that 9.30 was late enough for her to call the parents and announce the bad news, as well as gather some useful information.

Emily. What about Emily. Hotch pursed his lips, looking successively at his agents to gather some strength from them. He had yet to compose himself before facing the hierarchy and Erin Strauss, not even mentioning Elizabeth Prentiss. Maybe dressing into a suit would be a good idea.

"Bossman… Emily just turned her phone on."

She had not even finished her sentence before the chief unit eagerly grabbed his cell phone and hit the speed dial. He hesitated a while between having this conversation in front of the whole team or giving his agent a little more privacy. Finally, he went for the middle way and retreated into a corner, away from the listening agents. The phone rang two times before a tired voice answered.

"Hotch."

"What is going on, Emily? Are you alright?"

"I am fine. I take it you know what happened."

"Why didn't you call me? I could have helped there."

His statement was followed by a brief silence, and he could feel that the woman at the end of the line was fighting off the tears. She sounded tired and under great stress, which was no wonder.

"Hotch, listen. I don't want to drag you into this."

"Emily, let us help. Where are you?"

"I'm dealing with the problem. I'll call you back."

"Em…" When he realized that she was gone, Hotch fought the urge to smash the cell phone against the nearest wall. The same old stubborn Emily.

"Did you trace the call?" He asked without turning around. He didn't want to face the rest of the team.

"What did she say?" Derek's voice came up from behind, as expected.

"Garcia, did you trace the call?" He could hear her fingers dancing lightly on the keyboard although she did not so much as speak in return. After a minute that seemed an hour, her light voice finally spoke:

"She is near Kansas City."

No one said a word, but their shared thoughts were so strong that anyone who would have entered the room at this moment would have known: Emily Prentiss had gone to get justice.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Keep it in the family**

Aaron Hotchner closed his eyes just a second before the door creaked open and Erin Strauss's blue eyes shot up from the file she was reading. Without a word, he penetrated in the office and closed the door behind him, standing somewhat awkwardly in the middle of the room, waiting for the Department chief to offer him a seat. The blonde held his gaze for a few more moments and Hotch almost expected flames to come out from behind her glasses and burn him down. Or maybe she would go for the slow way and torture him a few hours before putting an end to his sufferings. Either way, the man was going to endure it without even flinching.

"Sit down, Agent Hotchner."

"I thought I told you to keep me in the loop." She said, gathering the papers in front of her. Peering down, Hotch's eyes fell on similar pictures as he had taken with his own cell phone.

"I'm sorry, the night has been quite busy."

"So I hear."

Hotch waited for her to continue, expecting some more reprimands or maybe an order to get home and get his head off the case. Instead, she handed over the file for him to look at.

"I thought you might want to know the outcomes of the crime scene unit's work."

Raising an eyebrow at the extremely rare kindness she was showing, the dark-haired man looked at the few pictures and lab results.

"CSU found the man's fingerprints all over the place, including the murder weapon. Agent's Prentiss' own fingerprints were found on the knife, but it is believed that she killed the man in self-defense. I wanted you to know that she is no more considered as a suspect."

"I didn't know she had been." Hotch's voice was cold and unforgiving, although he had half expected this trick from the Bureau.

"We still need her statement to clear this up. I suppose you know about the girl."

Hotch didn't try to deny it, so he just nodded and held his direct superior's gaze, unsure about what she was thinking at the moment.

"Do you know where Agent Prentiss' is or the reason for her disappearance?"

"No, Ma'am. I haven't heard from her yet although I've tried all morning to reach her." The last part was true. Hotch had been dialing the well-known number every twenty minutes since he had left her apartment before it was even daylight, and Garcia had taken up when Hotch had been called to the chief's office.

"Well, let me know if you have any news regarding your agent. What is your team up to?" From the sarcastic tone in her voice, Hotch was very well aware that she knew about them working the case. How could they not? Since Erin Strauss had accompanied the team in the field and witnessed from the first row the warm bond tying the coworkers, she had become more understanding, although saying she had become humane still would be a gross exaggeration. Hotch knew however that he had to give her _something_. Otherwise she might snap and send them all home, refraining all access to the FBI database. This would help none of them, let alone Emily.

"We tried to dig into the victims' lives and discovered that the man – Jeffrey Richards – was a decorated prison guard. We think maybe it is one of the inmates we helped putting away who is behind all this."

Strauss nodded, not truly surprised at the news. Hotch was dismissed after promising to keep the blonde Department chief informed of their doings. Although homicide was still working the case, Strauss had agreed that no other case was sufficiently urgent to keep the team from giving a hand to find Emily Prentiss.

The brunette parked her rental car right in front of the roadside bar and walked into the old-fashioned place, heading straight to an isolated table without even looking up at the few men occupying the premises. She waited for the barman to come over and found herself hesitant on what to take. Her first thought had gone to a shot of vodka with orange juice, although it was not yet midday. Since it was her second sleepless day in a row, no hour was technically "too early" for this kind of drink. When the bold man came to stand over her, she changed her mind and ordered a tonic water, forcing a smile to make up for her cold attitude as she had penetrated in the bar. She had to keep her mind clear, she repeated to herself, getting Joseph Schrader's file out of her briefcase. Since she had left Washington DC, the brunette had held onto these few pages like a lifeline. It had brought her all the way to Kansas City and would help her find the man who had commanded her daughter's death. Emily drank a mouthful of her tonic water, swallowing quickly to fight off the tears that were welling up in her eyes. Although she usually was not a highly sensitive person, the short intrusion of Lizzie in her life had broken her ability to compartmentalize. Every time pictures of the young woman clutching her bloody throat would invade her, Emily had to fight the sobs willing to come out. Shaking her head as if it would help her to get rid of these dark thoughts, the brunette decided to concentrate on the list of addresses in front of her.

"Did the dragon let you out alive?" Morgan said, peering between the dark-haired man as he was walking back into the conference room.

"With the promise to keep her informed. Anything new?" Hotch's eyes went directly to Garcia, who was still concentrated on her screen. Since they didn't know where exactly Emily was nor whom she was looking for, there was no doubt that the technical analyst was their best asset for now.

"We found Blair Jeffrey's address. The man was released three months ago and moved not far from here, to Baltimore. Reid and Rossi are on their way to talk to him."

"JJ?"

"On the phone with Lizzie's parents. She should be back any time soon. But Hotch… watch this."

The supervisory agent came to stand behind the blonde to see what she was referring to. He couldn't help noticing the repeated glances Morgan shed him from the side. He hated the feeling of being watched by his coworkers, as though they were expecting him to crumble under the pressure. Frowning, Hotch crossed both arms over his chest and tried to concentrate on the video currently playing on Garcia's tiny computer screen.

"I hacked the surveillance system from the ATM near Emily's apartment building…"

"How did you _hack_ it?... Never mind." Hotch shook away his excess of curiosity.

"To answer your question, Boss man, most systems are now managed from distance and can be traced back online. Anyway, I just wanted you to see… _this_."

To be honest, there was not much to be seen on this video. The angle was unfortunate, principally concentrating on the ATM, and the light was too dim to really recognize anything or anyone. However, Hotch followed Garcia's finger, pointed on a silhouette walking by the ATM. He took back the negative thoughts he had just had when he recognized Emily Prentiss. One hand pressed against her forehead, with blood seeping through her fingers, and the other clutching her handbag. She almost stumbled on her own feet at one point, and Hotch held his breath until she was out of sight and Garcia had turned off the video.

"She's hurt." This, and the state of shock betrayed by her body language, was the only detail he could retain from this footage.

"Well, I think we should concentrate on the positive: she made it out alive and wasn't abducted at gunpoint by some psycho." Garcia said, looking over her shoulder to Derek Morgan, in search of some optimism.

"Alright." Hotch said although his voice lacked belief and enthusiasm. Morgan frowned, wondering how much more time would pass by until the man would finally break down and let the others help.

"Well, keep on the good work. Garcia, I want you to stay on Emily's footsteps. Trace her cell, her credit card, everything you can think of. When JJ comes back from her phone call, send her to my office. I also have a phone call to make."

With that, Hotch left the room and walked through the bullpen to his own office, oblivious to the agents watching him pass by.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Politics**

Hotch's fingers were fidgeting as he considered whether to actually do this phone call or not. He had dreaded it for the past hour, hoping Emily would just reappear and make it unnecessary. But it was now ten minutes past eleven and his agent had officially gone missing for seven hours. And, as JJ had pointed out earlier, Elizabeth Prentiss could maybe help them understand Lizzie's role in the plot. Hotch suppressed a sigh and opened the little notebook he always kept in his breast pocket, although today was a no-suit day for him and he had stashed the item into his briefcase. In there were all the emergency contact details for his agents, which he had hoped he would never have to use. Of course, these persons were all listed in the team members' personal files, but this copy was a four-leafed clove for Hotch, a way to keep tragedy away. His fingers brushed over Will's number and that of Derek Morgan's big sister, until he reached Elizabeth Prentiss' direct line.

"Elizabeth Prentiss' office." A soft voice spoke, and Hotch guessed that it was probably a secretary.

"I am Aaron Hotchner, a friend of Mrs. Prentiss' daughter. I would need to speak to Ambassador Prentiss most urgently." Hotch heard rustling on the other end of the line.

"Elizabeth Prentiss on the phone. Is this Agent Hotchner?" Under other circumstances, Hotch would have smiled at the harsh tone coming from that woman, which reminded him so much of Emily, except the lack of warmth.

"Yes, Ambassador Prentiss. I'm sorry to disturb you."

"Is something wrong with Emily?"

Hotch swallowed. Elizabeth Prentiss had always been a straightforward person.

"She's disappeared last night."

"What do you mean, _disappeared_?" She cut in, obviously upset at Hotch – or the Bureau, or maybe police work in general.

"She seems fine, I've spoken to her this morning, but we don't know where she is."

"So she hasn't actually disappeared." Hotch would very likely have burst out laughing, but he felt more like crying at the moment. Emily was right when she said that politics made people change and broke families apart.

"Ambassador, I am afraid there was a murder at your daughter's apartment last night." When his comment met only silence on the other end of the line, Hotch felt he had finally hit a soft spot.

"Who is it? Emily… she's alright?"

"We don't know at the moment. As I said, I've talked to her a few hours ago. Listen, that's not the only reason why I am calling."

"Tell me, what can I do? Maybe call friends or pull a few strings to find her." Hotch made a mental note to remember this proposition, which would come in handy if Garcia didn't get through.

"No, Ma'am, I already have my whole team working on it."

"Good."

"I need to ask you a few questions to clear the situation. Two persons were murdered last night in Emily's apartment…" Although it had become a habit for him, Hotch would have kicked himself for using Emily's first name in front of her mother. Hoping she hadn't noted the familiarity, he continued in a professional tone: "One of them was a young woman, named Lizzie."

He waited for an answer, and the long silence of Elizabeth Prentiss was exactly what he had been hoping for.

"Did you know Emily had a daughter?"

"Of course I know. I was the one to give her up for adoption." Hotch suppressed a sarcastic comment. Given how impressive the woman was today, even to a grown-up man like him, he couldn't quite imagine the pressure she had put on her own fifteen-years-old daughter.

"Did Emily have any contact with her?"

"No, not that I know of. She left her identity at the adoption services, in case Lizzie would someday want to meet her biological mother, but the girl never made any move."

"Are you absolutely sure of that?"

"Listen, Agent Hotchner. You know my daughter well enough to understand that we do not have a very close relationship as for now. But _that_'s a big thing. I would like to believe Emily would have told me if she had seen Lizzie."

"Okay." Hotch didn't want to push it further. He really didn't need to put up a fight with a mighty ambassador while her daughter was missing.

Rossi was about to knock on his friend's door when he saw that it was already slightly open. The dark-haired man was seated at his desk and considering the bottle of Bourbon he had taken out of its secret place. The older agent came to stand in the door frame, and waited for Hotch to look up to him.

"I brought you coffee… but I see you prefer going for the strong alternative." He smirked before closing the door behind him. Whatever was going to be said in that room, no one else needed to overhear it.

"I was just thinking."

"Usually, people read in crystal balls, not half empty bottles." The agent sat down and put one of the cups in front of Aaron.

"Tell me." He continued, sipping at his own steaming beverage. Suddenly, the man across from him seemed to snap out of his daydream.

"What did you find out?"

"Blair Jeffrey has a solid alibi for last night: he was working at a local restaurant which serves 24/7. We talked to his wife. I think the man really turned his life around."

"Then we'll have to look somewhere else…" Hotch's eyes were boring holes into the open file in front of him.

"Strauss gave you the heads up?" Rossi asked with a surprised tone, nodding at the pictures of Emily's apartment sprayed over his friend's desk.

"She understands we care for our own." The words had escaped his lips although he did not realize how true they sounded. Their own.

"Hotch, you can step down if you don't feel like leading on this one." Hotch looked up and locked with David Rossi's gaze.

"Is it bad to care so much?" he genuinely asked before leaning back into his seat, astonished at his own honesty.

"It depends. If it keeps you from doing the job, then you should start reconsidering certain things…"

"Was I so disturbed when Morgan was arrested, or Reid abducted?" Hotch had come to the point where he would no more trust his own judgment. He needed Rossi's fresh and unforgiving eyes.

"We are not blind, Aaron. You care for each one of them, in a different way. But it's the first time since Haley's death I've actually seen you get out this bottle you were trying to hide from me…" Rossi finished his sentence with a warm and understanding smile, to lighten up the mood.

"Come on, I booked a ticket for you and Morgan to Kansas City. You fly in two hours. We can stay at the base and guide you."

Hotch nodded. Although his friendship with David Rossi dated back over ten years, he couldn't help being surprised each time at the man's patience and honesty. He was always a step ahead of all of them.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Fuite en avant**

Jennifer Jareau raised a grateful gaze to the youngest agent of the team, as he put a filled cup of coffee right in front of the blonde. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't even seen him sneak out of the bullpen with her mug in hand.

"Thanks, Reid."

The doctor took a seat across from JJ and sipped absentmindedly at his own beverage, not taking his eyes off his colleague.

"How are you holding on?" JJ raised a surprised eye. From all the members of the team, Reid would usually be the one who needed consolation after a tough case or an intra-team fight.

"I'm upset at her, to be honest. Am I a terrible person to think badly of Em' while she is missing?"

Reid wasn't surprised at her statement. Although he had managed to keep his attitude neutral, he couldn't help feeling disappointment at the obvious lack of trust from the brunette.

"I know what you feel. I'm trying to suppress this thought for Emily's sake, but I can't help wondering."

JJ gave him an understanding look and took a mouthful of the coffee, so hot that it numbed for a moment her throat – although she wished it could also anesthetize the contradictory emotions she was feeling.

"Obviously, I know that you are closer to Emily than I am, so I get your frustration." The young agent continued, looking distractedly at the empty desk next to his own.

"What irritates me most is to imagine what she kept from me when I went through motherhood. I know the feeling, I know the joy and the pain. And she did as though she was a complete stranger to this."

"On the other hand, her experience was probably very different from yours. You didn't have to give Henry away. You have Will, and you are a grown-up woman, not a fifteen-years-old teenager."

JJ expected that Reid would rationalize things, and she knew that the man was right. Giving up Lizzie for adoption probably was the most difficult decision Emily Prentiss ever had to make, not even mentioning her young age at that time.

"Do you think she is okay?" JJ asked. This question had burned to get out for a very long time. When they had met in the conference room, earlier that day, the whole team had focused straight on understanding the brunette's behavior, and finding her. They had purposely pushed the worry and uncertainty away, for Emily's sake.

"I think she is blinded by rage. What would you to if someone harmed Henry or Will?" A familiar voice came up from behind the blonde agent, who turned to find Derek Morgan standing, hands in his trouser pockets, right behind the couple.

"I would hunt the man down and kill him with my bare hands." Such a bold statement coming from the usually quiet and reserved Jennifer surprised both her colleagues. But then again, people could become animals when it came to protecting their family or themselves.

"The question is: how does Emily know whom to be looking for?" All three fell in silence at this question, until Morgan turned to the blonde agent.

"What did the parents say?"

JJ cleared her throat and blinked away a tear that had been building inside of her ever since she had heard the hysterical sobs of Joan Mayers over the phone.

"Well, to say they are shattered is an understatement. Lizzie hadn't even gone missing. She went yesterday morning to the campus for a whole day of lectures, and the parents only began worrying when she didn't come home at night. Before they had a chance to report her disappearance, the police had already found the body."

"When was the last time the girl was seen?" Reid asked.

"I am not sure. The Mayers said that the police had been canvassing the campus and talking to Lizzie's friends, without any result. It seems Lizzie never even made there, which would fit the timing. There are a few hours' drive from Indiana to Washington."

"And did the parents know anything about Lizzie being threatened? After all, maybe we are looking at the case the wrong way." Morgan added, his eyes set on the floor rather than the questioning gazes of his colleagues. Reid, however, was already one step ahead and ready to join the reasoning.

"You think that the target could have been Lizzie rather than Emily?"

"Well, maybe Lizzie felt in danger and went to her biological mother, knowing she was an FBI agent."

"Hardly possible." Reid said in-between two sips of coffee. "Lizzie has been raised by the Mayers. Even if she knew Emily was FBI – which is of public knowledge anyway – she would have turned to her parents. The biological link is not a key here."

Derek nodded and watched as JJ was raising an eyebrow in uncertainty.

"JJ?"

"I am just thinking… this whole thing about family and biological links – maybe it _is_ the key after all."

"Meaning?" This time, even Reid visibly didn't get the point.

"Most of Unsubs seeking revenge would go straight to the point, hit the most direct target, Emily. They would have waited for her to come home and just killed her, instead of taking risks by abducting a family member – who doesn't even _live_ in the same state. They were trying to send a message."

"You think the Unsub lost his family because of us – or Emily? That would fit." Reid answered.

The conversation stopped as Hotch and Rossi walked out of the unit chief's office. Hotch however went straight to the elevators with only a nod to the group. Rossi walked down the stairs to the bullpen, as the three agents were looking up in expectation.

"Where's he going?" Derek was the one to ask, a little frustrated by the lack of communication that had hindered their work since morning.

"Getting his ready bag and making a few arrangements for Jack. Derek, you're flying with him to Kansas. I booked two tickets on a commercial flight leaving in two hours."

Derek raised an eyebrow, waiting for some more explanations.

"Why not use the jet?"

"Well, Strauss has been comprehensive until now, but I doubt she would like you using the jet for a case we are not even supposed to be working." Rossi said with a smirk.

"Is he alright?" JJ asked out of the blue, having watched the dark-haired man disappear behind the elevator doors.

"Don't worry about him. He just needs a bit of action instead of waiting here, arms crossed." Rossi seemed very calm, as usual. The man was a rock, always ready to take the blow for someone else or to offer some friendly support when it was needed.

"He's kicked in a 'protective dad' mode again." Morgan remarked, trying to read Rossi's reaction. The elderly agent obviously knew a lot more than all of them reunited.

"I wouldn't quite put it that way. He's just worried."

"We all are. I'll go get my ready bag."

"I'll have Garcia send you all the flight details." Rossi called after his colleague as the man was jogging to the elevators. Eventually, he turned to the two left agents who seemed eager to get their hands onto something. Although the question was not said aloud, Rossi understood that he had to take things in his own hands.

"Did you reach anything with the parents?"

"Not much. They don't know anything about potential threats to their daughter. They're on their way to take Lizzie back to Indiana." JJ answered, before turning to Reid who immediately caught the message and delivered their latest theory.

"We think maybe the accomplice lost his family because of this unit. It would have been easier to just go for Emily, but they chose to target her closest family." The doctor stopped and raised the pen he had been playing with for the last fifteen minutes. "Which makes me think… Maybe they are now after Emily's mother, wouldn't that be logical?"

"I wouldn't worry for the woman. She has at least five bodyguards permanently watching her back. But I'll give her a call to inform her." Rossi said. His hands were buried deep into his pockets and the frowning on his face showed how concentrated the man was. He couldn't help feeling a little guilty about being the only one to know about Emily's child. He had been the last to join the unit and yet, he had deserved the trust of one of the most reserved member of the team. He just hoped the others didn't resent him for this.

"JJ, have Garcia go through all Emily's files to find a match. Someone whose family was caught in the crossfire, or whose wife filed for divorce after he was suspected or arrested. You get the picture."

"What are we doing?" Reid asked, emptying his mug and standing up.

"Well, I think we have to get back to the bottom of it. Jeffrey Richards. We still don't know the exact reason for his implication. It seems odd, a decorated officer suddenly turning into a criminal. Let's talk to his wife to find out more about the man and build up a profile."

Before following Rossi to make the call, Reid shed one last glance to JJ, who was trying hard not to break. If they wanted to keep their minds clear, they had to keep themselves busy.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: Pieces of the puzzle**

"We are about to board the plane, JJ. I'll call you as soon as we land, which should be in…" saying this, Aaron Hotchner looked at his wristwatch "… three hours at the most. Bye."

The dark-haired man turned off his phone and watched as Derek Morgan was making his way towards him with two small bottles of water. He handed him one and drank eagerly from his own. A headache had been creeping up inside of his head for the past hour.

"What did she want?" he asked, observing the frown on Hotch's face.

"Tell us that Garcia had found a list of unsubs who went through a divorce, lost custody over their children or experienced a familial loss." Derek didn't miss Hotch flinching as he pronounced the last words. It had been six months since Haley's death, and the man had never really talked about it or confronted his demons. As usual, he bottled everything up and drowned himself into work to forget about his personal grief. Derek just hoped that this case would not be the one to send him over the edge. At times like this, the team seemed awfully tiny and fragile to Derek Morgan.

"How many?" he asked, still wrapped in dark thoughts.

"Twenty-six. Most of them divorced, though there are also cases of suicide or accidental death during police intervention. We'll have the list as soon as we get off the plane. I just need to fix…"

The sentence trailed of as Hotch began typing on his cell phone. Morgan took the ticket from his hands and checked them both in, following his superior down the corridor leading to the plane.

"Crosscheck with address in Kansas. Concentrate on lost children." Since Derek had told Hotch about JJ's theory, new ideas had been building up inside of him, that he had kept to himself until then. He sent the message and finally looked up to search his seat.

"Man, I am not used to commercial flights anymore." He heard the younger agent mutter as he was crawling through to the window seat. Hotch suppressed a sigh and took off his jacket before sitting down and buckling his seatbelt. He didn't want to lose any time and get straight to the profile. This was however not Derek's plan.

"How is Jack?" he asked, hoping to get the man's mind off the case.

"Staying with his aunt Jessica. She must be picking him up at school as we speak." Again, he checked the time for the tenth time since they had met at Dulles Airport. Though Derek wasn't sure whether it was to check on his son's day planner or to dig himself deeper into depression at every hour passing by with Emily still unaccounted for.

"You're damn lucky to have her around." Derek said with an understanding smile.

"I know. She hops in every time I am called away. I didn't think it would be this easy." Derek watched as the man frowned at the last word. Unfortunate choice of terms. Of course, nothing was easy about Aaron Hotchner's situation. Answering the unsaid question, Derek continued:

"I know what you mean. You have Jack but can still have your job. It could have gone many other ways." The seriousness of Derek's tone was almost too much to bear, so he added. "Although honestly, I could not picture you pacing around your apartment like a lion in its cage…"

Hotch smirked at the remark, and cleared his throat. Back to work, it seemed to say.

The conference room seemed a little crowded for this time of the day. It was the middle of the afternoon, and yet four agents were gathered around the big round table, drowning under tons of files, reports and pictures. At this fairly normal hour, the BAU team would either be doing leg work or hopping on a plane somewhere to another state. But they were stuck at the federal quarters, trying to uphold their cover –paperwork day.

Reid was playing with a big felt-tip pen and regularly scribbling down isolated words on the board, where pictures were also pinned. JJ was lost in her reports while Garcia had migrated from her bunker to the round table, to give them the information first-hand. Rossi had gladly taken up the role of temporary leader and was standing at the far end of the room, glancing over the numerous files.

"So, there are – for now – four pillars to this case." Reid pointed to the names and pictures decorating the board. "Our unsub, who has a grudge against Emily because of a past case which tore his family apart. Jeffrey Richards, a prison guard who was a model officer until a few days back, when he changed sides and became a criminal."

With his pen, the young profiler drew a two-sided arrow between the two men, and went over to the third picture.

"Lizzie Mayers, who has nothing to do with _anything_, really, apart from being the biological daughter of Emily. And Emily, of course."

"Garcia, can these adoption files be consulted by just _anyone_?" JJ asked, not hiding her incredulity.

"Well, it would take some good skills in hacking – or being part of the medical profession. Emily's listed in Lizzie medical file in case she might need a donation."

They dropped this lane in a common agreement. This detail could be figured out later, and they already had many uncertainties on their hands.

"Family is the key." Rossi stated, looking at the different lines linking Emily and Lizzie, the Unsub and Emily. At that point, his cell phone began ringing, and he answered without much ceremony.

"David Rossi."

Three pairs of eyes were fixed on the older agent, trying to guess the conversation behind Rossi's short answers. The call was cut abruptly as the profiler put his cell phone on the table and joined Reid at the board, taking the pen from him.

"Family, as I said. Jeffrey Richards' family has gone missing a month ago."

"Why hasn't this been reported?" JJ asked.

"Because Jeffrey is all the family they have – no aunts or uncles, no grandparents. Local police says he made up the excuse of a sick relative for his wife not being at work or his children at school."

"Why would he do such a thing?" the blonde asked genuinely, although the reason was pretty clear and worrying.

"The family's been used as a leverage. Doesn't that remind you of something?" Reid answered, looking at Rossi, satisfied to see understanding creep up on his face.

"Joseph Schrader." JJ shrugged as Garcia's voice put them all to silence. Realizing that everybody was looking her way, the blonde technician raised her eyes and stuttered:

"Sorry… I… I just finished crosschecking my list with the Kansas inmates. It all points to Joseph Schrader."

"He fits the profile." Reid continued, transferring his attention back to the board. He gladly erased "unsub" to replace it with the now familiar name of their suspect. "I remember that case."

All concentrated on writing down the name properly, he missed the smirk on Rossi's face, and the comment he made to himself about Reid's infinite storage capacity.

"Derek and Emily arrested him for abducting his daughter. The wife was granted, as you would expect, full custody. The man lost his family and Emily was at the center of his arrest."

"Plus, he had already wanted to kill her in that car." JJ added, looking straight to the board, oblivious to the concerned look of his colleagues. They all remembered too well as the news of an accident had kicked in. JJ thought back to the moment Emily had walked back into the precinct to give a hand, in pain and with a hollow gaze.

"So he takes Emily's daughter because she took his own away? Makes sense." Rossi said, rubbing his beard as he considered the pros and cons of his profile.

"And don't forget how he got his accomplice back then to help him…" JJ finished, pointing to the board with her pencil. The pieces were getting together, to everyone's relief.

"But Garcia, didn't you say he was still in prison?" Rossi turned to the analyst. If she had not put extra make-up that morning to hide her sleepiness, everyone would have seen her blush at the question.

"Checking again, captain. Even the goddess of computers can make mistakes sometimes…" she quickly added to distract attention from her sudden shyness. "He is, sir." The answer cut in sharply.

"That's not possible." Rossi stated, holding the blonde's gaze. "The profile fits. There must be a mistake somewhere. Kansas, family loss, previous history with Emily… Come on, these can't be coincidences."

Garcia tried to forget the eyes burning holes into her skin from all sides, and her fingers found a new strength, typing more quickly than ever on her keyboard. After a couple of minutes, which was extremely long for the technical analyst, Rossi cleared his throat to attract attention.

"I think a simple phone call would be a very simple way to make sure."

Penelope looked up to meet David Rossi's understanding look. Although there was no anger or disappointment in his eyes, Penelope's were throwing flames at him. She didn't like her work to be diminished or her capabilities doubted of.

"Penelope, no one's is blaming you. Just give us the phone number to be sure. Maybe it's some mistake on their side." Jennifer Jareau took a reassuring tone and soothed her friend's back to loosen the tension building up inside of her.

"On it." She groaned, lowering her gaze to a _tête-à-tête_ with her screen. "Sent, JJ."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: Nighttime loneliness**

Emily pulled the car on the roadside and waited for a few moments for her heart rate to slow down. She had not been so nervous about anything since she had looked Benjamin Cyrus in the eyes and known he was going to kill her with his bare hands. He did not, of course, but somewhere in-between the third and fourth blow into her ribs, she had been sure that she would never come out this evil house alive. Now, seated in the obscurity of her anonymous rental car, she felt again as though her heart was going to jump out of her ribcage.

Emily looked at the sun setting behind the unending fields of the Kansas countryside. There was no denying that this farm was remote to any civilization, and would be a perfect place to hide, she decided, peering in the rear window to check if any car was passing by. As far as she could see, no headlights broke the growing darkness. Suppressing a sigh, she leaned back into her seat and disposed of her seatbelt, ready to spend some time in this position. For more security, she set the gun on the dashboard, within reach. Her gaze wandered distractedly to the file lying on the passenger seat. Two addresses had already been crossed. If she walked on one more of Schrader's relatives, he would most likely know that she was looking for him, and Emily didn't want to spoil the effect of surprise.

Her eyes wandered across the land and down the road that was disappearing between the fields. This part of the country was beautiful, and so peaceful. She could use the distraction, to just forget for a few seconds about what horrible event had led her to this isolated place. From where she was seated, behind the tree line, she could not decipher the name on the mailbox. Her file read Eddy Schrader, Joseph's younger brother. If this was not the place, then Emily would probably have to give up, after trying the parental house and Joseph's ex-wife's. The brunette suppressed a sigh of frustration. She was not tired. Sleep had left her a long time ago, although she was now over thirty-three hours of being awake. But other needs had to be filled, she said to herself as her stomach began to groan in discontent. Emily tried vainly to remember when she had last eaten anything. Since coffee and water didn't count, the last bit she had fed on probably was one of Reid's cereal bars on the jet back from Florida, that she had unwillingly shared with Morgan. Despite the circumstances, she had to smile silently as the sight of Morgan's round and envious eyes came back to her mind. In quest of another snack, Emily began searching her pockets, in the hope some angel would have left a gift for her empty stomach, but all she could find was a notepad and her cell phone.

Looking at the object as though it was some alien device, she switched it on. The 47 missed calls brought her back to reason. At once, the tears that had been repressed too long were back at full force, threatening to get out. She wouldn't have minded to cry her heart out in this empty car, if she hadn't been supposed to keep watch over the nearby farm and its inhabitants. So the brunette just swallowed her sadness and pressed her eyes close to force the tears back down.

Suddenly, light was turned on in one of the rooms downstairs, and Emily was back to being the tough agent, in just a second. The familiar silhouette of a man could be seen behind the curtains. Grabbing her gun, Emily decided that it was time to have a closer look on the premises.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: Brainstorming**

The team was once again gathered in the conference room, looking at each other in expectation. They had not called any official meeting and other units could probably use the place for official cases, but no one around the BAU had enough suicidal tendencies to make an entry on people who had not left the federal building for the past twelve hours, except to get some much-needed refill on coffee and food. Now and then, one agent would pass by the open blinds and observe the strange gathering and unhappy faces.

When he seemed to be finished with his usual one-word answers, Rossi pressed the speaker button and put the cell phone in the middle of the table, for all his colleagues to hear.

"Chief Jackson, would you repeat what you just told me… for the team to hear." His voice had an angry edge which almost sounded like exasperation.

"I am truly sorry, I don't know what happened. Joseph Schrader escaped two weeks ago, I don't understand why it is not in our files…" The man was stuttering in a pathetic way, as a result of Rossi barking on him for the last ten minutes. Although Rossi was usually very quiet and reasonable, such a direct proof of incapacity made him fly off the handle.

"Thank you, Chief Jackson. I would like you to check all the inmates present to see if no other _mistake_ is lingering in your database." Without as much as a goodbye, Rossi ended the call and brushed a hand over his face.

"Right, so we have Schrader in liberty. At least we now know where Emily is headed." As he spoke, his eyes drifted over JJ, who was holding her head with both her hands, then Garcia, who was torn between the satisfaction of seeing that the mistake was not of her doing, and the horror of realizing that a dangerous psychopath was free to chase one of her closest friends.

"While you were talking, Sir, I checked once again Jeffrey Richards' file. It turns out he was working as a computer engineer before joining the state department." Garcia raised a finger to get out her information before anyone cut her off.

"Hence the 'mistake' in the database…" JJ answered, nodding as the full meaning of this new element reached her brain. "And he was probably the one to dig into Emily's file to find Lizzie…"

"Garcia, can you find all addresses linked to Joseph Schrader near Kansas city?" Reid asked, approaching the table. "If Richards' family is still alive, he must have an isolated hiding place. Concentrate on farms and industrial areas."

"Give me half a minute, little one…" she muttered while opening three windows at once on her screen.

"Oh, my… Either Schrader is a very common name on the countryside, or this man has a seriously huge family…"

"Look at the police register and State Department files, Garcia. There are probably contact details for the man." Rossi added, simultaneously grabbing his cell phone from the table. He speed dialed Hotch's number, hoping that they had already landed. Before their unit chief had the time to take the call though, Garcia had shouted out her satisfaction.

"I got four different addresses. Ex-wife, who filed a claim for harassment…"

"Hardly possible that she would let Joseph use her house." JJ interrupted, looking up at her colleagues.

"… Joseph's Schrader old home, but it now belongs to another family."

"Cross that one out." Reid declared, his eyes set on the screen to see ahead of Garcia's discoveries.

"… Then we have the parents' house, which is as isolated as it can be, right in the middle of _nowhere_. And the brother's exploitation, northwest from Kansas city."

"Exploitation?" Reid asked.

"Lamb breeding." Garcia answered automatically, although she doubted that this information was going to be useful for their case. Reid's imagination and curiosity really had no limits.

The younger agents were silent when Rossi suddenly spoke up. Apparently, he had managed to reach Hotch on his cell phone.

"Aaron? Yes, I think we've got a lead."


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's note: I know it's a lot of Hotch and Emily, but I'll try to keep the others in mind in the following chapters... Don't own Criminal minds**

**Chapter 12: Running against time**

Everything was genuinely quiet in this isolated place of the Kansas countryside, except for the angry voices of two men. She could see their silhouettes gesticulating behind the half closed curtains. But as hard as Emily tried to hear the content of their argument, she could only make out one word out of ten. At least, she was now sure that Joseph Schrader was in that house. Her fingers automatically hardened around the barrel of her gun, to make sure that it was still there and ready to be used. Arching her back so as not to be seen from the window, the brunette made her way along the house, hoping to find a backdoor to make a discreet entry and surprise the two men. The farm was huge, she thought to herself as the voices' volume lowered but she did not see the end of the wall she was walking along. Finally, she reached the corner and peered around before continuing her way, to be sure no bad surprise was expecting her on the other side. Another window gave her a peek into the kitchen, drowned in obscurity. Her hand reached out for the doorknob. A good thing about living on the countryside was that you could let your door open at all times.

As convincingly as Derek had been, Aaron Hotchner had not even considered letting him take the driver's seat. The younger agent had had to quicken the pace as Hotch almost jogged towards the rental car in the airport parking lot. Now that they had a lead, both couldn't wait to reach Emily Prentiss before she did something irreparable. The cell phone rang for the second time in the last thirty minutes, just as Hotch was pulling onto the fast lane to leave Kansas City.

"Baby girl, we are on our way, you can send the route."

"It's already on the way. The house is under the name of Eddy Schrader, 33. He lives on his own on the exploitation, and had been visiting his brother every week for the past two years until the man broke out." The analyst's voice echoed through the car since Derek had put on the speaker.

"Are you sure it's our guy, PG?" Derek continued, his eyes set on the road which was passing by extremely fast. The agent wondered if Hotch had forgotten about his foot on the accelerator.

"Em' turned her phone back on and I was able to trace it. The GPS from her rental car confirms she's approximately forty miles northwest from where you are right now."

Hotch cursed under his breath as he realized how long it would take them to reach the location. Derek peered sideways without saying a word, thanked the blonde analyst and hung up.

"You know, you might want to drive straight into the ravine, it would at least be quick and painless." The younger agent groaned, using his free hand to hold the dashboard in a protective way.

"What?"

When Derek looked over after two whole minutes, he realized that Hotch was not even aware of his extremely nervous state. He was beginning to wish they had taken Rossi with them. At least, the man could have calmed his superior officer down and jumped in if necessary.

"Hotch…" Derek glanced over once again. "Are you sure you can do this?"

"Morgan, spill it out if you have something to say." Okay, so much for not registering his earlier comment, Derek thought to himself, raising an eyebrow.

"Hotch, with all due respect… You're scaring me."

For the first time since they had stepped in the car, the dark-haired man locked with his colleague's gaze. He seemed to soften somehow, but did not slow down.

"I need to know if you can keep a cold head, or you might put us both in danger." Derek's voice had turned into something cold, which was unusual for him. Hotch remembered all too well this tone from the days following Foyet's attack.

"I will, Morgan." Hotch hissed in return. "I'm just scared that we might be too late."

"Do you think she would kill the guy, honestly?" The last word was said with a smirk.

"This is _family_, Derek. He killed her _daughter_." Although it would be inappropriate to put forward his personal experience, Hotch knew that his colleague had gotten the message. Family was everything.

"I realize that, Hotch. But we are talking about Emily. _Compartmentalizing_, remember? She's never displaying any emotion."

"She's secretive." Derek thought of saying something about the 'no intra-team profiling' rule. But then again, there was a very slim difference between simple analysis and profiling. "She is going to break."

"She is not Elle."

Hotch's eyes narrowed as he took in his colleague's statement. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind. Because deep inside, he knew that he wasn't worried for her career or ability to do the job. Whatever happened tonight, Emily Prentiss would get back on track soon enough. What concerned him most was her sanity and well-being. Joseph Schrader had already proven to be ingenious and well-prepared.

"Call her, Morgan. Keep calling her until she answers. She has to know about Richards' family."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13: Base camp**

JJ sighed in relief as she spotted Rossi coming back into the bullpen, hands charged with two huge delivery bags containing their Chinese treat. Unable to just sit around in the conference room while waiting for an update from the two agents on the field, JJ, Reid and Rossi had gone back to the bullpen while Garcia retreated happily to her bunker. When the clock had struck 10 PM, the little group had thought that some food would be necessary to keep them through the night.

Rossi rummaged through the boxes and put one that he guessed were fried noodles on JJ's desk, before handing the other bag to Reid. The blonde smiled at the gentlemanly attitude and eagerly dug her chopsticks into the paper box without saying much more than a 'thank you'. As a matter of fact, the words that had been exchanged since Rossi had handed all the information over to Aaron Hotchner could be counted on two hands. It seemed each of them was wrapped up in their thoughts. Expectation was killing the agents, who were not used to stay away from the field. Even the doctor Reid, who was practically born to sit behind a desk, was getting nervous not to know what was going on in Kansas. Still, one question was burning JJ's lips when she looked up to David Rossi, who had taken a seat on the edge of her desk to have his own dinner.

"Dave, how come are you the only one to know about Emily's past?"

Rossi didn't even flinch – he had expected to be interrogated.

"I guess I just was at the right place, at the right time." He truly believed that he had done nothing to deserve any more trust from the brunette than any other agent in the group. In fact, over the years, Emily Prentiss had grown much closer to Derek Morgan and Jennifer Jareau – and Hotch, but their relationship was quite different.

"Maybe she just felt like confiding into someone neutral." He continued, thinking out aloud.

When he looked sideways, Rossi couldn't miss the frown on Reid's face. The young agent had always been the one with the highest expectations. He stuck to principles that were almost impossible to bear for the persons around him, and eventually he would snap, if disappointment grew too strong.

"Don't be too harsh on her." Rossi said, holding the younger agent's gaze, until he finally stuttered:

"Why do you say that?"

"Reid, we know how unforgiving you can be sometimes…" JJ interfered in the softest tone she could take. Although some things needed to be said, she didn't want to startle her colleague.

Instead of answering, Reid only raised an eyebrow and concentrated back onto his fried beef and onions. When it was clear that they would get no reaction from their younger colleague, Rossi shifted his attention to JJ and greeted her with a knowing look. The blonde had been playing with her food rather than eating it for the past five minutes.

"How are _you_ holding on?"

Jennifer sighed deeply. As much as she tried to keep a cold head, thoughts of Emily killing Schrader in cold-blood or lying on the floor after being shot crossed her mind every now and then. Everyone's attention had been so focused on Aaron Hotchner's strange attitude that no one had even cared to ask the others how they lived this experience.

"Frustrated. Angry. Disappointed. Afraid. Shall I continue?"

"I think these feelings crossed all of our minds." Rossi said uncertainly.

"I would like to jump on the jet and get to the guys in Kansas City, instead of sitting around."

"Someone needs to calm Strauss down."

Rossi said with a smirk, now and then peering over to Reid, who still was concentrated on his food. It was clear that part of his anger was directed at his own incapacity rather than just Emily. But Reid was not one to open up so easily.

"She'll be back before you know it." The elderly agent had felt that a little bit of reassurance was needed. "Eat your food, we have a long night ahead." He pointed with his chopsticks in JJ's direction. She had resumed playing with the noodles instead of eating them. She smirked at the comment but, before she had the time to get some to her mouth, she spotted a couple standing at the elevators, obviously new to the environment and looking for someone.

"Lizzie's parents are here." She said, putting down the dinner, wiping off her mouth and making her way to the standing couple, under the scrutiny of the two profilers.

"M. and Mrs. Mayers, I am Jennifer Jareau, we spoke on the phone." She extended a hand and tried her best to utter a warm smile, fighting her own sadness as she saw Joan Mayers' tears welling up in her eyes.

"Why don't we go somewhere more private?" she motioned to the conference room, just a few stairs above them. She had dealt with many grieving families, but this one was hitting too close to home. When she walked up the flight of stairs, she glanced downwards and saw the concerned look on Rossi's face.

"I am very sorry for your loss." JJ said as the couple was getting seated.

"Do you know if the police investigation has reached anything?" she asked.

"They will call us as soon as they know anything. All we thought about was to get to Washington and bring our baby back." Joan said, refraining a sob.

"Agent Jareau, we would like to meet Lizzie's biological mother, if she is willing to talk to us." Peter Mayers said with a much firmer voice. Men usually took the blow with more dignity, although they would miserably crumble in the end. Never take a man's pride for granted, JJ had learnt over the years dealing with victims or victims' relatives.

The blonde cleared her throat before answering. She had left out the part of Emily's flight during her phone conversation.

"I am sorry to tell you this, but Emily Prentiss went missing after the events of last night."

"Missing?" Joan's eyes locked with the blonde agent's, expecting her to elaborate.

"We think the man who killed your daughter had an accomplice." The words came out slowly, as JJ thought about what she could disclose and what had better stay between the four walls of the conference room.

"And he is still out there?" Peter asked, his voice breaking by the end of the question.

"It's too early to say anything, but a part of my team is trying to find the accomplice – and Agent Prentiss."

For a brief moment, JJ wondered whether the parents resented Emily for their daughter's death. Maybe it was not such a good idea for the three of them to meet up after what happened. Yet, it would be Emily's decision when she would come back.

Reid watched cautiously from his desk into the conference room, although the unfortunate angle and the half-closed blinds made it hard for him to see anything happening in that room. All he could tell was that the man had stood up after a while and was soothing circles on his wife's back. His focused shifted to Dave Rossi as the man came standing beside his desk, obviously looking for an explanation – or an argument.

"What is it?" he tried to keep his tone neutral as he locked with Rossi's gaze. The man, however, did not answer and merely stared at the doctor with a raised eyebrow.

"I know an explanation will be needed, but Emily needs fore and foremost our support." He finally said, as it was clear that Reid would not open up without Rossi giving him a little push.

"I know that. I just can't help feeling betrayed."

"Why is that?"

"Don't profile me, Dave." The use of his colleague's first name did contrast with the harsh tone in the young agent's voice.

"Then talk to me, genius. Why is it getting to you that much?"

"It's just… I always felt like my mother somehow abandoned me."

Had it been anyone other than Dave Rossi, they would probably not have linked Reid's statement and Emily's situation. But the hardened profiler could read well beyond his colleague's nervous eyes.

"Sometimes it is best when a child is separated from his biological parents. In your case, your mother was _sick_. And Emily was awfully young when she had her daughter. I am sure it was for everyone's best that she gave up Lizzie to be adopted by this caring family." As he spoke, Rossi looked towards the conference room, where the couple was still talking to JJ.

"Besides, it's not our place to judge her for choices that were made almost twenty years ago."

Reid's eyes were wandering helplessly over his desk, as they tried to lock with something that would give some peace to his mind.

"I know. I just can't help it."

They were interrupted in their conversation by the sound of a door opening, and watched as JJ brought the couple back to the elevators. JJ's frustrated look told them all they needed to know: these persons were shattered.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's note: the big scene is finally arriving... this one was hard to write. Don't own Criminal minds.**

**Chapter 14: Standoff**

Emily woke up to the metallic taste of blood in her mouth, as well as a certain stiffness in her neck. It took her several seconds for the pounding in her head to lessen enough so that she could finally open her eyes. Her face was pressed against the wooden floor. Granting a few more moments of calm to her aching head, she closed her eyes and listened for any sound that could tell her where she was or what had happened. She vaguely remembered walking through the dark kitchen with her gun drawn, hoping the cracks of the floor would not betray her presence. Then a shrieking sound echoed through the room, attracting the two men's attention. By the time Emily had understood that it was her cell phone ringing and she had taken it out of her pocket to shut down the noise, something cold smashed the back of her head, and she had drifted out of consciousness.

The brunette stiffened when she heard footsteps on her left side. Her eyes shot open to find two boots in her vision sight, and she automatically pulled back in protection, pulling a grimace at the pain in her neck. Looking up, Emily was blinded by the bare lamp hanging from the ceiling, and she had to put a hand over her eyes to have a better look at the man standing over her.

"At last you're back with us, pretty one." Joseph Schrader's voice could not be mistaken. Emily flinched as he kneed down to let her see his face. She wondered how much time she had been lying there, and why the man had not yet taken the opportunity to finish off the job.

"Stand up, Agent Prentiss." The pounding in her head made all her movements difficult and Schrader soon grew tired of waiting, so he pulled her up by one arm to make it quicker.

She tried to get out of his grasp but her retreat was hindered by a huge wooden cupboard. The dishes made a funny noise vibrating as Emily's back collided with the piece of furniture. Without giving much away, the trained profiler began assessing the situation and environment. They were standing in the kitchen, which looked different and more welcoming now that the light had been switched on. In fact, it looked so warm that you would almost have expected children to happily jump through the room for a quick snack. But the only other person in the room was a man standing in the doorway and looking awfully nervous. The brother, Emily guessed. She would deal with him later. For now, all she wanted to do was understand.

"What do you want from me?" she hissed, staring straight into the man's eyes.

"You took away my family, bitch." The man looked full of determination. Anger had left him a long time ago, replaced by the urge to do what he thought was right, to take revenge on the woman who stole his daughter from him.

"You _destroyed_ your family. You killed your wife…"

"She made me do it."

"She made you _stab_ her eight times?" Even though she was afraid and her profiler's reason was screaming at her not to antagonize the man, Emily felt her rage fighting to get out.

From the corner of her eye, the brunette could feel that the accomplice was getting more and more nervous at the sight of the couple. Contrarily to his brother, Eddy Schrader clearly was no cold-blood killer, and had only been drawn into this whole mess to help Joseph.

"She wanted to take my Lily away." Joseph hissed, taking a threatening step towards his victim. At that point, Emily saw the gun – her Glock – in his right hand, ready to be used.

"You abused your daughter, Joseph. You raped her. She is far better off without you." No antagonizing, she kept repeating to herself, but her lips seemed to move completely independently from her brain.

Emily didn't even flinch when the man hit her in the face with the gun, leaving a bloody scar on her left cheek. Not quite ready to give up, she spat some blood onto the floor and stared back to her assaulter. It was time to try another way.

"Do you know what he did to me?" Emily pointed a threatening finger to the man, now standing merely three feet from her, while her eyes were set on the brother.

"Do you know he killed my daughter in cold blood?" Her voice broke as she said the last words, but it seemed to work, because the man flinched.

"What is she talking about?"

"Your crazy brother sent someone to kill her!" Feeling that the accomplice was getting more anxious by the minute, she forced herself to continue. "She was only nineteen, Eddy. Nineteen years old… He _cut_ her throat, for God's sake!"

Emily suppressed a sigh when she saw Eddy moving forward. He grabbed his brother's arm, but Joseph's eyes were still set on her.

"Is that true? I thought you said…"

"Shut up." He hissed, not turning around.

"I thought you said 'no deaths'!"

Eddy didn't shy away. Instead, he forced his brother to turn around. Joseph barely felt as his finger pulled the trigger. He only watched with round eyes as his brother clutched onto his own shoulder, the other hand pressing on the fast growing red spot on his shirt. Horror and incomprehension was plastered over Emily's face as she was witnessing the scene, unsure whether Joseph had really gone crazy or shot by mistake. Eddy fell down to the ground, and the agent snapped back to reality. With a swift move, she rammed into the armed man to knock him over. Her body was screaming at the sudden violence and recklessness of her movements. Taken by surprise, Joseph Schrader literally flew over the kitchen table that had been standing in the way, and he took Emily with him. Both bodies fell onto the floor with a bump, and two pairs of eyes eagerly searched for the gun which had fallen out of Joseph Schrader's hand.

**By the time the car had jumped off the main road and headed to the quiet lane leading to Eddy Schrader's farm, Derek Morgan was sweating heavily. **He prayed for no car to come from the opposite direction: if Hotch's driving style had already been scary on the tarred road, the poor state of this countryside lane was making things worse. The car was bumping every time Hotch took a hump-back too quickly. A few moments earlier, Derek had called local authorities to let them know where they were and that they needed back-up. They had no jurisdictional right to be there, but given the urgency of the situation, the agent had not thought twice before waving 'BAU' and 'FBI' at the local sheriff in a very authoritarian way. Just as the black Sedan pulled next to what Hotch guessed was Emily's rental car, a shot was heard from inside the premises.

Fortunately, both men had taken the time to put on their bulletproof vest during the ride, so they only had to draw their guns before leaving the car and running in methodical order up the alleyway. Without saying a word, Hotch motioned for his agent to go to the back of the house while he was taking the main entry. They not only had to find Emily before she did anything stupid; a family's life was also at stake. The dark-haired man leaned his tense body against the wooden wall of the house and chose a spot near the door so he could have a clear view inside. When his eyes fell on the scene he had dreaded to witness, the man counted to three, took in a sharp breath and used his right foot to break the door down without much care.

**Emily's eyes wandered across the wooden floor until she spotted the Glock lying less than four feet on her left side. Her hand reached over but the strong hand pulling by her hair with rage made her cry out in pain.** Without even looking, she slammed her left elbow backwards, glad when a whimper confirmed that she had reached the target. This gave her enough time to let her fingers wander across the floor and finally close around the barrel.

Emily Prentiss was a trained field agent. She had already killed suspects to protect herself or victims, and she didn't shy away. It was part of the job, she thought each time she had to pull the trigger. And her ability to compartmentalize made it easier for her to go back to work the day after. But today seemed different, she thought as she pressed the weapon against Joseph Schrader's forehead. The man didn't even flinch. He had probably hoped for this to come. Tonight, it would be either him, or the agent. Either way, he was not going to live one more day without his daughter. Eyes fixed on Schrader's every movement, the brunette tried to back off from the man's grasp. The couple had fallen into such an awkward position that their legs had found themselves entangled. One step at a time, Emily thought as she increased the distance between her and the man.

"Why did you not kill me directly?" The question escaped her lips before she knew it. More than back up, what she needed now were answers.

"Because I want you to know what it feels like."

"I took your daughter, so you took mine." She whispered against her better judgment. She didn't want to go down this path.

"How did you find her?" she went on.

"I had some help." To Emily's dismay, a grin invaded Schrader's features. Why did he seem in control, while she was the one with the gun?

Their so cordial conversation was interrupted by the breaking sound of a door shattering. Still concentrated on her assaulter, the brunette raised her eyes to find Hotch, gun pointed in their direction, walking into the living room. Their eyes locked and the relief in her mind would have been complete if Joseph Schrader had not taken this opportunity to plunge forward.

**Derek Morgan used his gun to push the backdoor slightly open. The room was all darkness but given the height of the ceiling and the emptiness around him, the agent guessed that it was a sort of garage. **From his position, he could not hear Emily's conversation with Schrader, or the door being kicked down by Hotch. But yet, weak noises were disturbing the silence he had expected to find. In his career as a profiler and FBI agent, he had often enough walked in on trapped victims to recognize their distinguishable whimpers. He suppressed a sigh of relief: the family was still alive. This was hardly believable, after a whole month. Using his flashlight, the agent walked around the room, his mind focused on determining the origin of the sounds. Soon enough, he spotted a door closed with a padlock, and put the gun back into its holster. The device was strong and the door made of metal. He would need strong tools to get this thing to open, he decided, turning around with his flashlight still in hand.

"Mrs. Richards?" he said softly so as not to startle the obviously terrified woman. The mere response he got were more whimpers.

"Mrs. Richards, this is Agent Morgan, from the FBI. We have come here to get you out. Are the children with you?"

There was silence for two seconds, as the woman probably considered whether to trust the unknown voice or not. When Derek heard the sound of a body throwing itself onto the door, Derek knew that he had convinced her.

"Stay calm, I am trying to get you out of there." Trying to stay as quiet as he could, Derek began rummaging around the room until he heard a shot coming from the other side of the house.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15: Suicide by cop**

**Aaron Hotchner made two steps into the living room. He had a clear sight on the kitchen and the strange couple half lying on the ground. **Seeing that Emily had the control over the situation and was pointing her gun at Joseph Schrader's head, the dark-haired man slightly lowered his own weapon. He paused a moment, taking in her disheveled appearance: a bloody scar was reaching from the corner of her eye to the middle of her cheek; another nasty cut which seemed partially healed could be seen at the base of her scalp, and what worried him most was the look in her eyes, where exhaustion mixed with determination and pure rage. And yet, when Hotch's eyes locked with hers, he knew deep inside that she was not going to shoot. At least, she would not have, if Joseph Schrader hadn't plunged forward in a vain attempt to grab the brunette's gun. Hotch was getting ready to shoot him but, before he could react, an explosion echoed as the bullet went right through Schrader's chest.

The seconds that followed seemed like hours. No one moved, until Hotch was brought back to reality by a terrifying thought.

"The Richards."

Emily raised questioning eyes in his direction, her mouth gaping, but she was too much in shock to say anything.

"He abducted his accomplice's family."

As the realization of what she had just done hit Emily, shock was replaced by anger. Her fingers were so numb that the gun fell to the ground, and the brunette pressed both hands on Schrader's chest, willing to take the bullet away. The tears welling up in her eyes had made her sight so blurry that she could not decide whether the man was still breathing or not. All she could discern was the pool of blood seeping through Schrader's shirt, as she pressed harder on the fabric to stop it from flowing.

"Where are they?" she shouted, her voice taking a shriek tone she had never heard before. "Where are they?"

In a matter of seconds, Aaron Hotchner had put his gun into the holster and had walked to the brunette. She barely felt as the man took her by the shoulders to turn her away from the obviously dead body. A shiver ran from Emily's body through Hotch's arms as he squeezed her shoulders more firmly, pulling the woman into a hug so that she would stop staring at Schrader. When Derek tumbled through the door, ready to defend his colleagues and put down the unsub, Hotch greeted him with a concerned look and shook his head to make him understand that it was over. Derek's eyes lingered over the two dead bodies. Of Emily, he could only see her brown hair, as she had buried her face into the crook of Hotch's neck.

"Did you find them?" the man finally asked. He couldn't believe that three persons would die because they arrived a few seconds too late.

When Derek nodded, his mouth still half-opened as he considered the bloodshed and poor state of his colleagues, Hotch pulled Emily away from him, cupping her face with both hands.

"They're alive. Morgan found them. Emily, do you hear me? It's okay, they are alive."

Since he could not help any more with his female colleague, Morgan decided that it would probably best to let her some privacy. So he left the room and jogged back to the garage, where the Richards family was still waiting for him to come to the rescue.

Hotch tried to steal a look of Emily's face and was surprised to see that she wasn't even crying. This was worse than he had thought.

"He made me do it." She shrugged as she realized that Schrader had used the same words not fifteen minutes ago. "He pressed my hand over the gun. _He_ pulled the trigger."

Emily raised a concerned glance, which took Hotch aback. Was she really justifying right now? Was she truly thinking that he would only be interested in the circumstances of Schrader's death? As he did not answer, Emily pulled free from his hands and stood up to leave the crime scene. Her hands were smeared with blood and she wiped them off on her trousers before walking out into the fresh air. She stood there for a while, listening to the quietness of the place, which was soon disturbed by the sobs of children somewhere in the back of the house, and the sirens of the back-up arriving.

Hotch had to wait for a moment before his legs allowed him to stand up. He felt gutted, a state he had last experienced when he was looking down at George Foyet's dead body. As on autopilot, Hotch ignored his male colleague who was walking along the house, guiding Evelyn Richards with one hand and holding onto one of the little boys, and slowly approached Emily from behind. He knew all too well the feeling of having the world crumble around you, and despite the apparent tranquility of the brunette, Hotch also knew he could not let her deal with it alone. So he just stood at her side and enjoyed the fresh air and star-filled sky with her. After four minutes that seemed like four hours to the unit chief, Emily turned towards him.

"How did you know?" By that, she meant of course how they knew she was here, in this remote place.

"We are damn good at our job." Hotch allowed himself to smile. It was imperceptible, but still the first smile in the last two days. Emily did however not answer same wise; she was already wrapped up in other thoughts.

"I just wish it would have ended differently." Hotch raised an eyebrow at her comment, and turned so that he could fully face her, speaking only when she had locked with his gaze. "Trust me, no ending would have suited you." Emily just stared into his eyes. She knew he was right. From the moment Lizzie had slumped onto the floor of Emily's apartment, the situation had been doomed to end tragically.

Hotch watched as three police cars stopped abruptly at the beginning of the alleyway. Officers in uniform came running uphill towards the house, taking in the sight of Emily in her work suit, all bloody and shivering, and the man signaled as FBI at her side. They split up as half of them penetrated in the house to canvass the crime scene, while the rest of the officers continued to meet a strange group composed of the three hostages and another FBI agent. To Hotch's relief, the blue cars were soon joined by an ambulance. The sheriff, aware that hostages were involved, had taken the precaution of bringing paramedics with him. Emily had still not moved from her spot.

"Are you okay?" Hotch couldn't remember how many times he had asked this question to all of his agents. But tonight, the words sounded differently. Soft. Protective.

"I will be." She simply said, although she did not dare at the moment raising a hand to assess the extent of her injuries. The scar on her cheekbone had already been completed by a dark bluish bruise, and another one could be seen in her neck, just where the shirt ended. Hotch had a clear sight on the injury, as Emily had pulled her hair into a ponytail.

"Come on, we have to check you out." With a hand on the small of her back, the unit chief guided his agent to the paramedics, who were already jogging in their direction. Leaving her in good hands, Aaron took the opportunity to gather his thoughts and care for the rest. After all, even if it hadn't felt like it for 24 hours, he still was the one in charge.

He watched as Derek was handing the little boy he had been carrying over to another team of paramedics, saying a few more words to the middle-aged woman, whose state was much worse than Emily. The younger agent left the group and brushed a tired hand over his face. Both men gathered in the middle of the alleyway, which had been so quiet a few minutes ago and was now swarming with people. They did not speak for a minute, still registering everything that had happened in the past hour.

"How is she?" Derek asked and Hotch saw that his eyes were set on the brunette, currently arguing with the paramedic disinfecting her numerous scars.

"I don't know."

"I can't believe it's finally over. This has surely been the longest day in my life…" Derek ended his statement with a deep sigh, to prove his point. "Did she…?"

"No." Hotch cut in rather sharply. "He forced her to kill him."

"Oh." The younger agent didn't know whether to be relieved that his colleague would not face a thorough interrogation, or concerned at the potential psychological impact it could have on her.

"Where did you find the family?" Hotch snapped back to reality when his eyes wandered over the frail silhouette of Evelyn Richards.

"In a closed room behind the garage. Can you imagine that they have been kept here for a whole month?" Derek asked rhetorically with an angry voice.

"They will never be the same again. Do they know about Jeffrey?"

"I didn't tell them yet. Let them settle down first." Hotch nodded, observing the tears falling down the children's faces, that reminded him so much of Jack. As though sensing that his boss was going down this path, Derek tried to change his mind.

"It's good to have you back." A single look from Hotch told the younger agent that he had gotten the message implied. He was endlessly grateful to his team for having dealt with his bad character.

Another silence followed, that was easier to bear now that some things had been cleared behind the two men. Derek couldn't repress a chuckle when Emily's angry voice resounded. She was shooting fiery looks at the young paramedic, who was apparently not showing enough softness.

"I am going to intervene before she lets out her anger at him…" Derek said before jogging down the alleyway. Even though he knew that Emily had been in good hands with Hotch, he had wanted to hug his female colleague since he had first seen her near Schrader's body. For him too, this had been a long and stressful day, and he couldn't even find the words to describe the relief that had washed over him as he saw that she was alright.

"Hey, Prentiss…" he approached the ambulance, granting an understanding glance to the young EMT and squeezing a hand on Emily's shoulder. She barely looked up but Derek was relieved to see that she had snapped back to reality.

"Thank you for coming." She said, trying to keep control over her voice. From the corner of her eye, she could see Hotch watching them, oblivious to the two policemen trying to get a statement off him.

"Well, you could have made things easier for us." He tried as hard as he could not to make it sound like a reproach, and the hand soothing circles on Emily's back managed to prove his point.

"I'm sorry for shutting you all out."

The words sounded hollow, Emily realized as she spoke them out. She could understand her colleagues' frustration but didn't feel like dealing with it at the moment. She had to push too many thoughts to the back of her mind.

"The others will be all over you when you come back."

"Don't scare me, Morgan." Emily groaned. If she was honest with herself, she was already dreading to face her team and the hierarchy. She would definitely have a lot of explaining to do. For a split second, Emily even considered not going back at all, but she quickly pushed that thought away as she looked into Derek's concerned eyes and saw Hotch in the background, his eyes still set on her. Her superior was on the phone, probably handing over the good news to the rest of the team.

"I'm glad you're okay. Be nice to the kid." At the comment, Emily shot a falsely angry look at her colleague. The terror in the EMT's eyes was clear – and awfully funny.

**JJ jogged up the stairs to Rossi's office as she saw the elderly agent raise a hand from behind the blinds, motioning for his colleagues to join him. **After having called out to Reid, who was wrapped up in some reading of his – his personal way to get his mind off the situation – JJ took two steps at a time. No one was there to watch her sudden hurry. It was well past midnight, and the last agents had left approximately thirty minutes ago after a long evening of doing paperwork. The blonde swung the door open and looked with expectation at her colleague.

"Yes. Yes, I'm relieved. No. Okay, see you then. Thanks for letting us know." Forgetting her usual softness and patience, JJ was suddenly very frustrated at the one-word answers of Rossi. She turned around as she felt Reid's torso press against her back, and moved slightly to let him some space in the door frame.

"They found her." Rossi did not try to hide the relief in his voice.

"Is she okay?" Reid asked uncertainly.

"A few cuts and bruises, but nothing too serious." Rossi paused before going onto more serious matters. "Schrader's dead."

JJ had been holding her breath and was slowly taking in her colleague's words. Even though one question was burning everyone's lips, no one actually dared to say the words. They would know soon enough whether Emily was in any trouble.

"And the Richards' family?" JJ's soft tone disrupted the silence.

"Alive. Apparently Schrader's brother protected them from Joseph's craziness."

"Good."

All three fell silent, their eyes searching the others' faces for a reaction which did not come. Finally, JJ snapped back to reality when she realized that one more team member was still in the dark.

"I have to call Penelope." With that, she had left the tiny office and walked down the flight of stairs, followed by two pairs of eyes. Reid couldn't help noticing that her whole body attitude had relaxed since Rossi's phone call. When the doctor shifted his attention back to the man sitting at his desk, he saw that Rossi was staring at him.

"When will they be back?" he asked.

"The jet is picking them up in a few hours. They'll be here by morning."

"They are not staying the night there?"

"I think Emily can't wait to be back."

Reid nodded, grimacing as he prepared for his next interrogation:

"How is she doing? Really?"

Rossi cleared his throat, considering for a second whether he truly believed Hotch's vision of the situation.

"Aaron says she says she is fine." The younger agent rolled his eyes, obviously not trusting this statement either.

"Okay." He purposely stressed the word, to show his skepticism.

"I don't believe it either. When she comes back, she will have an awful lot to deal with."

"She's in safe hands with Derek and Hotch."

"I know." Rossi raised his eyes, relieved to see that anger had left Reid's eyes since their last conversation. The silence lasted for a few seconds, before Reid's hands began fidgeting again.

"Coffee?" he offered, already reaching for Rossi's mug on the desk.

"Bedtime." His answer stopped the doctor in his tracks, and he looked somewhat disappointed. Reid probably needed some more team time before facing his solitude.

"JJ will be glad to spend some time with you and Garcia. Go out and have a drink." The elderly agent said gently. "Dealing with Strauss all day has worn me out."

Reid chuckled at the answer and finally left Rossi to his quietness, after a final nod. Rossi stayed seated for a long moment, enjoying the relative silence of the premises. He joined both his hands in front of his face, as he always did when he was in deep thoughts. He had not lied to Reid: he was exhausted to play brave face all day, to reassure his colleagues, to help his friend Hotch not to crumble while dealing simultaneously with Strauss' attacks. He had deserved a good night's rest before he went to pick up his colleagues at the airport and offer them a supportive shoulder.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16: Back home**

Emily's eyes were directed at the window of the plane. Though she did not register everything going on outside – by the time they had boarded the jet, the first rays of sunlight were already warming up the Kansas countryside – she could use the distraction from her colleagues' concerned looks. Emily had accepted to sit near the two men, Hotch across from her and Derek at his side. She knew they both needed to feel her proximity, to make sure she was breathing and okay. The only condition being that they would not bother her with questions, not until they would land in Washington – or Emily would open up from herself. When she grew tired of looking at the lightening sky, the brunette shifted her attention onto the other occupants of the plane.

She had been so glad when Hotch had confirmed they would take the jet and not some commercial flight. She could not have born making conversation to any stewardess or curious neighbor, and she would certainly have wanted no one to witness her outburst if it came to that. However, it hadn't yet. As she peered over the table, the brunette found Derek fast asleep, his head pressed against the back of his seat. Her attention shifted to the man next to him and she was not the least surprised to find Hotch staring at her.

"You should sleep." she said in a soft tone.

"I hope this is a joke, Prentiss. I'm not the one who should be sleeping." Emily flinched. She hadn't heard Hotch use her family name for a long time and it now felt peculiar. Of course, she did not pick up on that and simply attempted to smile in return. The smile turned quickly into a grimace as she was painfully reminded of the bruise on her cheekbone.

"Coffee?" she offered, standing up before she even got an answer. She walked the few feet towards the kitchenette and put out two mugs for them, barely looking up when she noticed that Hotch had followed her. He was now standing in the doorframe and watching at the shaking in her hands rather than her face.

"How are you feeling, Emily?"

"Could be better."

"Emily, you know you will have to talk at one point. Not only to me, but to the team – and Strauss. And Lizzie's parents."

The brunette shrugged. They had not once pronounced her name since the two men had picked her up at Schrader's farm.

"Can I just… have a break until we land?" Hotch looked at her with concern as he noticed her voice breaking. It took him all his willpower to resist the urge of reaching forward and soothing her back. Emily Prentiss was not one to be hugged or comforted.

"Emily, I know how you will feel when the rush of adrenaline leaves you and you realize the situation. It will be hard on you, believe me. Just don't… shut us out." He had used 'us' rather than 'me' to make it sound less personal.

She opened her mouth to answer but decided against it. To be honest, she didn't know what to say. She knew he was right, but in her life, Emily had always dealt with grief or pain by curling up in a ball and isolating herself from her friends and family. Given the bonds she had tied with the other team members, she knew it wouldn't be that easy this time. They would want to know. They would want to help.

"I still can't believe everything that happened." She finally said, more to herself than her supervisor.

"It will take time." When the brunette looked up from the mug she was clutching, Hotch's eyes took her aback. They had an unusual soft sparkle which made Emily want to curl up in his arms. Her sudden shyness helped Hotch to get the message and he took a step forward, squeezing her shoulder with a warm hand. This was all the contact she could bear for now, he felt. Even five hours after the incident, he could still sense the slight shiver running through her body as she put a hand over his forearm.

"We were worried, you know. Even Strauss was ready to give us some leeway."

Emily pulled away and suppressed a smirk. She would have liked to make some sarcastic answer that would fit, but her mind was so empty that she couldn't think of anything.

"Thank you for not listening to me, I guess." She said, fighting the knot in her throat.

"Anytime." Silence fell upon the couple until Derek's head peered through the doorframe. Apparently his sleeping had been so light that their simple conversation had awoken him.

"Are you making coffee?" he asked with a tired voice. His words were all but random. The agent didn't want to fall into pathos by patting Emily's shoulder and telling her that everything was going to be okay when all of them knew it wouldn't. So he went for a trivial comment, to break the seriousness of the conversation and lighten up their mood. What Emily needed right now some sense of normalcy.

"I thought you were sleeping." Emily noted, hastily pulling away from her superior. Why did she feel like a child caught with the hand in the cookie jar?

"I need my medicine. How long till we land?"

"An hour still." Hotch said before he mumbled some excuse to return to his seat, an empty mug in hand. The new day was going to be as long as the previous.

**Emily had stubbornly refused to head home when the jet had landed in Washington. **Rossi had been waiting on the tarmac, eager to set his eyes on the brunette and make sure she was okay. Part of him also wanted to assess her psychological state before she was to confront any other team member or the Chief Strauss. The car ride was silent, everyone being wrapped up in his thoughts, except for Derek Morgan, who felt the need to fill the awkward silence that had fallen onto the team. Rossi watched over with concern in Hotch's direction, who was looking out of the passenger window, and Emily's, who seemed to fight to keep her eyes open. From the mere look on her face, the older agent could tell that the brunette was fighting off the nightmares that she knew would come.

"You're sure you want to head straight to the Bureau?" Rossi asked, bringing Derek's babbling to an abrupt end. The question was obviously directed at the brunette on the backseat.

"Positive." She groaned.

"Joan and Peter Mayers are waiting for you there. JJ called them when she knew you were coming in."

Emily seemed to hesitate for just a second, until she realized whom Rossi was referring to. Her eyes glanced sideways and she saw Hotch shrug on the passenger seat. His eyes were still lost outside the car but she could tell all his attention was focused on her reaction.

"Okay. How are they holding on?"

"JJ talked to them. They are broken, obviously."

**Emily Prentiss felt like she had become her mother, when she walked into the elevator with her three serious-looking bodyguards.** On the brunette's right hand side was Aaron. Although his eyes were fixed on the metallic doors, the way his arm brushed against Emily's told her how much he thought of her. On the left, Derek was stealing glances of the brunette as often as he could, thinking she might cry out any minute. To complete the picture, Emily could feel Rossi's eyes boring holes into her skin – or maybe it was the bruise on her neck that was starting to get sore. As they approached the fifth floor, Hotch turned and said, just above a whisper:

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to." His tone was firm but his look displayed softness and care.

"I need to."

**JJ looked up from her desk when the elevator doors opened for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past hour.** She had been mostly making small talk to Joan and Peter Mayers, handing over just enough information about last night's events to calm them down. When Reid had fled from the crime scene with the excuse of fetching some coffee for the grieving couple, the blonde had repressed a murderous look. She knew that the young doctor was not good around too many strangers, let alone victims. In the few years they had worked together, JJ had only seen Reid bond with a few persons, mostly young teenagers which reminded him of his own youth.

When the blonde liaison agent flinched at the sight of Emily, Hotch, Derek and Rossi, Joan Mayers immediately turned around. Although she had never met Emily Prentiss before, she could tell by the similarity in her features that this was Lizzie's biological mother. JJ tried to keep her from taking any step closer, but now the man was standing too and she felt like she was going to lose the control over the situation. She did not say anything though, as Emily seemed to have registered the couple's presence. She breathed in deeply and took uncertain steps into the bullpen. What had JJ thought by bringing the parents here? Emily could have used a break before dealing with any more pain today. She would have wanted to hug JJ and Reid, and tell them her side of the story before giving any more explanation to Joan and Peter Mayers.

Emily pushed these thoughts aside as she stopped right in front of Joan. The woman was beautiful, even in these circumstances. The tears running down her cheeks underlined her natural beauty. It was almost strange how much they looked alike, Emily thought. Brown hair, brown eyes, although her tan was much healthier than Emily's. The agent opened her mouth and hesitated between giving her condolences, begging for forgiveness or asking them a million questions about Lizzie. Before she could utter a single word, the palm of Joan's hand collided with Emily's cheek, making her forget about the bruise on the other half of her face. The woman's strength was unbelievable, given her frail silhouette.

"Hey, stop that." Aaron Hotchner took a step forward, using his body as a shield between the two women until he felt Emily's hand on his arm.

"It's okay. I understand." She said, ignoring the shocked glances of her colleagues. As usual, she would take the blow with dignity. In an attempt to protect their own, JJ had reached forward to keep Joan Mayers from going any further, soon joined by the husband, who did not seem to agree with his wife's outburst.

"You killed our daughter." The woman hissed. As the sentence registered in Emily's brain, the brunette decided that words could be far more destructive than actions.

"Mrs. Mayers, this is enough. I understand your grief and I am very sorry for your loss, but Agent Prentiss did only try to protect your daughter and to find the man who did this to her."

Emily was awfully glad when Hotch came to her rescue, as she could not get a single word out of her throat. In fact, she seemed to have forgotten how to breathe, because her already blank face was becoming paler by the minute. Whereas this change of attitude was hardly perceptible to a normal eye, the trained profilers quickly read in her features and acted in consequence.

"Why don't you sit down. Agent Prentiss needs a few minutes and you can talk afterwards." JJ said with diplomacy as her hand was guiding Joan Mayers to a nearby chair. She was glad now that Reid had gone on a coffee run, and watched as the fragile woman's hands closed around the warm cup. She could very well understand this motherly reaction, although she would give anything not to be in Emily's position at this very minute. As usual, Reid had been a step behind, witnessing only half of the incident, and he looked somewhat puzzled as Rossi accompanied Emily into Hotch's office, closely followed by the supervisory agent. Derek saw his questioning glare and only shook his head. This boy really needed to get in touch with reality.

"Breathe, Emily." Motionless, Emily had let Rossi guide her up the stairs, into the dark office and finally onto the tiny couch. It was only when the elderly agent crouched down in front of her and took hold of her hand that a sharp breath was inhaled, the colors immediately returning to the brunette's cheeks. She blinked away a tear, hoping it would have gone unnoticed by the fellow agents. Of Aaron Hotchner, she could only see the slim legs standing still at a few feet from her, behind Rossi. There was no doubt he was watching her every move, so the young agent did her best to gather her composure.

"Emily, you don't need to confront them if you are not ready to."

Of course, everyone in the room knew that Emily would never shy away from difficulties. She cleared her throat to get rid of the knot obtruding it, and answered without raising her eyes:

"I'm okay. I need to do this. I owe them an explanation." Although Aaron and Dave both wanted to shout out that she didn't owe them anything, they could also understand that Emily needed to confront her demons.

A knock on the door startled the three agents, even more so when the unknown visitor penetrated in the room without bothering to wait for an answer. Erin Strauss' blonde hair came to sight, to no one's great surprise. Only the supreme chief could waltz into Aaron Hotchner's office like that.

"Now is not the time." Aaron groaned, holding her angry gaze.

"Excuse me?" When her shriek tone answered his, Hotch knew he had gone a little too far. He didn't even have to look Rossi's way to feel his colleague radiating with heat of embarrassment.

"Chief Strauss, may I come make you my full report a little later?" Hotch insisted, sensing that if he backed away now, he would be lost. "My agent is not feeling well."

Strauss' eyes wandered over the scene, probably checking that Emily was not crying her heart out. The department chief seemed satisfied with her appearance – she had not enough empathy to guess that this mask of tranquility was hiding a bleeding heart and crumbling mind.

"Agent Prentiss, I am glad to see you made it back alright." She simply said, uttering a smile that made her look like she was constipated, before turning her attention back to Hotch. "I think she is in good hands. My office, now."

With that, she turned the heels and did purposely not close the door behind her to make him feel the urgency of her demand. Hotch looked helpless for a few seconds, before decidedly walking out and closing the door behind him. This single gesture showed all the anger building up inside him. Once he was gone, Emily turned a questioning eye to Rossi, who had sat down on the coffee table across from her.

"What is the matter with Hotch?" The man who usually looked so stoic now seemed on the edge of breaking down himself.

Emily's surprise grew as she noticed an imperceptible smile on her colleague's features.

"The man has been out of his mind in the last two days. But you don't need to deal with this now." The brunette's eyes lingered a few more moments on Rossi, until her breathing had evened. She had to do this, she said to herself as she pulled firmly on the doorknob and looked for the Mayers, who had retreated to a quiet corner of the bullpen, away from the other agents who reminded them so much of their grief. She would accept all the blows it took to make Lizzie's caring parents feel better.


	17. Chapter 17

_Author's note: thanks again for the amazing reviews and advice, I try to keep them in mind. The story's slowly coming to an end, I just want to add a bit more post-traumatic coping for the team. As usual, I don't own Criminal Minds._

**Chapter 17: Crumbling**

**Emily Prentiss was looking straight through the window, enjoying the unhindered view her fourth floor apartment gave her over Washington. **At nights like these, she would sit during hours on the window frame and drown her sorrow into the endless dark sky and millions of lights in the distance. Usually with a bottle of wine – on better days – or tequila – when she felt like never waking up to this rude world. But tonight, a diet coke and a whole box of painkillers were on the menu. Although they were intended for the concussion she had been ignoring for two days, they helped too with the stiffness in her neck and the multiple bruises on her face, she had noticed with satisfaction.

She had been sitting like that ever since she had gone home, approximately six hours ago. Dealing with the grieving parents and writing her report had taken much longer than she would have expected. And, to end up a dreamlike day, Erin Strauss had insisted on speaking personally with Emily despite the voiced protestations of all her coworkers. The supreme chief wanted to have an insight into the situation before an official investigation was called in. Emily had not even tried hard to dissuade the grumbling blonde from digging further into the case. By the time she had left a crying Joan Mayers and reassured all of her coworkers, Emily had no energy left to care about a potential threat to her career. So she had just answered the questions in a polite and honest way, left the office when she was told, grabbed her stuff and ignored her friends' calls before hailing a cab. This happened around six in the afternoon. Without even looking at her wristwatch, the brunette could tell that it was now well past midnight. She had not even bothered to take out the cell phone out of her jacket, which was now lying on the back of some chair in the kitchen. Anyway, it had stopped ringing two good hours ago, which made Emily guess that her coworkers had finally headed to bed after these long days. She however didn't feel like sleeping at all, although the painkillers made that operation a little difficult.

When a knock resounded on her frontdoor, Emily considered during a split second ignoring the visitor. Then, all of a sudden, she felt guilty. Maybe they had caught a case, although it seemed hardly plausible that JJ would want her to resume working so soon. No, it was probably one of her teammates, sick with worry. Emily could handle her own pain, but she couldn't put that burden on anyone else. So she reluctantly got to her feet and walked to the frontdoor, not even checking in the peephole before pulling the door open.

"I did not wake you, did I?" Hotch smelled like alcohol although his voice sounded all but drunk. Maybe he had needed the liquid courage to come and knock on Emily's door, at one in the morning.

"No. Come in." She had not talked in so long that short answers only came to her mind now.

"Did you try to reach me?" She asked when the man had penetrated in the dim light of the apartment. She hadn't even noticed that most of the lights were off, only realizing when she saw Hotch search for the switch.

"About twenty-two times. And JJ called me an hour ago, she tried every thirty minutes for the past four hours."

"I didn't feel like talking." Emily simply answered, walking past Hotch to resume her favorite activity: looking into the dark sky.

Hotch took in his surroundings. Last time he had been in this apartment, he had felt like throwing up from fear. CSU had done a very good job cleaning up the place. The only trace still visible was the blood that had seeped into the wooden floor and the cleaning team had not managed to rub out. Emily would have to change that floor altogether.

"Do you want me to go?" he asked, his eyes getting accustomed to the obscurity of the living room.

"No, it's alright. You wanted to check on me, I suppose."

Hotch's hands were dug deep into his trouser pockets. He was still standing near the kitchen counter, as though he did not dare to intrude into her apartment anymore. But then again, knocking at her door at one in the morning already was intrusive, and she had gladly let him in.

"Don't tell me you are alright."

Emily smirked without looking in his direction.

"You read in me like in a book." She groaned. It didn't take a profiler to see that Emily Prentiss was going down a very dark path. She sipped at her can of Diet coke and grimaced as the grumbling in her stomach became more intense.

"How long have you not eaten anything?" She hadn't thought the screams of her empty stomach had been loud enough for him to hear, but the man apparently had tackled his hearing problems.

"Does coffee count?" Before she knew it, the man had turned around and walked into her kitchen. He began rummaging with care through the cupboards and fridge, sighing at the lack of any consistent food. For someone who always so shy about making friends outside of work, he moved pretty comfortably in Emily's kitchen, she noted.

"You have absolutely no food in this house." He finally said, having only found a bottle of ketchup and some flour.

"I'm not home that much." Emily answered, finally bothering to join the man in her kitchen, blinking at the sudden bright light.

"I know the feeling." They stared into each others' eyes for a moment. It had always been difficult to have more than a trivial conversation with Hotch, because when he became serious, he did it all the way – and people would usually shy away.

"How are you holding on?" he finally asked, receiving a glare in return. "Okay, I might rephrase that since you are not sleeping in the middle of the night and are avoiding all outside contact… Do you want to talk about it?"

"What is there to talk about? You were there."

"I didn't mean Kansas. I meant your daughter."

Emily didn't shy away. She knew this was bound to come, and to be honest, she felt relieved that she could tell Hotch in private rather than make it a public announcement in front of the whole team. Maybe the man would even have the delicacy of passing the necessary information, so that no one else would bother asking her.

"Do you think she was right? Joan?"

Hotch's eyes narrowed as he considered the seriousness of her question.

"You didn't kill your daughter." His voice was firm; there was no doubt to have.

"If I hadn't left my name for him to find…" Before Emily could finish her sentence, Hotch had erased the distance between them. With him standing so close to her and looking down to her eyes as though she was some helpless child, Emily felt unable to continue.

"You left your name because you loved your daughter. You wanted to be there if she felt like getting to know you."

The reality of his words took a minute to sink in. Even though this was the obvious reason for Emily's decision twenty years ago, she could not accept that good intentions could have such a tragic ending.

"Why did you come?" Her voice was so broken. Their situation was insoluble: she refused to let go of her shield in front of anyone. He would refuse to leave until she had opened up to him.

"I know what you are going through. As a parent, as an agent… When I felt like breaking down, you were there to offer a hand. I want to do the same."

Emily took in a sharp breath and looked down at her shaking hands. In the intimacy of her apartment, she now wanted so desperately to let go but couldn't bring herself to do it. A few tears ran down her cheeks to release a tiny bit of the tension she was feeling. She just hoped the man wouldn't hug her or try any other form of contact, or she would crumble altogether.

"It seems ridiculous to cry over a girl I barely saw a few minutes in my life, doesn't it?" Emily's voice was sore by the end of the sentence, but she did no more care. The flow of her tears was so strong that it could not have gone unnoticed by her superior officer.

"It was your flesh and blood. It's perfectly normal…" When his hand came to rest on her shaking shoulder, Emily suppressed a sob and had to cover her face with her hand to keep some kind of sanity. But Hotch wasn't making things easy for her with his kind words and soft gestures. Emily tried to pull away, to tell him to stop, but Hotch was not one to give up. Instead of giving into her flight, his grasp became firmer, until he felt Emily relax and he could pull her into a hug without hurting her. For a long moment, she just stayed like that and let her tears flow freely. Hopefully, everything would be forgotten by morning.

When Emily's eyes had shed all the tears they could, she took a few more moments to let her breathing become less erratic. She didn't want Hotch to think she was about to have a panic attack, although it almost felt like it. When she was ready to pull away, he let her go without fighting and didn't protest as she turned around to compose herself. Crying into his chest was one thing, but looking into his dark eyes with a tear-stained face was another.

"I take it you don't want to take some time off." He said more than asked. He knew Emily well enough to guess that she would want to drown herself into work to forget about her personal issues.

"If you agree, no."

"I know it helps." Yet he did not mention that he would agree only if he was allowed to watch her and make sure that no case was hitting too hard on her. He knew too well how she could be a risk to herself and the others, if she wasn't focused enough.

"Emily, am I right to suppose you haven't slept or eaten in two days?" his voice had a paternal tone that Emily did not like. But she was far too tired to protest or snap in return. So she just nodded, her groaning stomach giving away the rest of the answer. Hotch looked helplessly around.

"Go to sleep. I'll get you something to eat for when you wake up." To say she was surprised at the offer was a gross understatement.

"Hotch. You don't have to do this. Go home and spend some time with Jack."

The dark-haired man shot her a tired smile.

"Prentiss, it is almost two in the morning. Way past bedtime for Jack."

"Right. Still, you really don't need to do this. If I promise to go to sleep straight away, will you go home to your family?"

Hotch wanted to tell her that, at this point of his life, she – and the rest of the team – had become as much a part of his family as his own son, but he repressed the thought. The boss hugging up his agent in her apartment, in the middle of the night, was already way beyond protocol limits. He didn't want to dig his grave deeper.

"Alright. Don't feel obliged to come in tomorrow. You need your rest."

"See you tomorrow, Hotch." He had obviously predicted her reaction, and only smiled in return before walking out the door.

**Reid's eyes were set on the board as he pinned down the pictures, one by one. **Each photograph he would take in his hands, he would look at during a whole minute, before hastily putting it in the open file lying on the circular table. From time to time, his eyes wandered through the open blinds to make sure a certain brown-haired agent wasn't coming his way. JJ and himself had agreed that all evidence regarding the case should be gone by the time Emily Prentiss came back to work. And knowing the brunette, she would be in before noon, even under these exceptional circumstances.

**JJ was absently sipping her coffee – the third cup since morning – and trying to get her mind onto the stack of files on her desk. **From her office, she had no clear view over the elevators and this worried her. Hotch had arrived just a few minutes after her this morning, and had asked her to keep an eye on their brown-haired colleague. By the way he seemed sure about Emily being in the office that day, JJ knew that they had talked, though she did not push the subject. They all had thoroughly enjoyed their night's sleep, knowing that the next day would be stressful. Even though Emily was a strong person and probably the most secretive woman JJ knew, her teammates – including JJ – felt the need to watch her. So that she could do just that – and avoid having her head bitten off by a nervous Hotch – the blonde's head turned every ten minutes to the wide open door, to see whether Emily's desk was still empty. JJ almost cursed in surprise as a mighty shadow came to stand in the doorframe. Derek Morgan was glancing at the blonde's desk, with the same look of expectation that she was wearing herself.

"Hello, Morgan. Do you mind knocking on the door next time?"

"The door's open."

JJ smirked.

"I enjoy the view."

"You mean you're spying on Prentiss?"

It was Derek's time to give her a knowing smile, making a move to sit down across from JJ. He too had a huge mug of coffee in hands, and she wondered whether the man had slept at all last night.

"I came to see if you needed some refill." He raised his own mug to make his message clear.

"Thanks, I'm good. One more and I'll begin jumping through the bullpen like a kangaroo."

"Long night?"

"Short one. Or long, depends what you mean. I spent more time thinking than sleeping." Derek frowned at the response. JJ had always been a straightforward person, and she didn't hesitate to let the others know how she felt. Compared to his other secretive colleagues, it was a nice change, thought Derek.

"Me too. Do you think she'll be in today?"

"Hotch told me so. I suspect he got a hold of her yesterday."

"Lucky man." Derek too had tried to call Emily from the moment she had left the bullpen in a hurry. For one, he wanted to check on her. Secondly, he had to know whether he needed to go and put Strauss down with a few karate tricks after her primary encounter with Emily. But after the second message left on her voicemail, he had dropped the matter and gone to sleep – or tried to.

"He's worrying me." JJ continued, visibly wrapped up in her thoughts and oblivious to Derek's attempt at humor.

"They are both going to be okay." He answered with a soothing voice. "Emily is as strong as a rock. And Hotch… well, Hotch is just reliving his own nightmare, I guess. Familial matters always hit close to home for him."

JJ's eyes widened. Although Derek had said very little, he had evidently reviewed every detail of the situation and drawn his own conclusions. JJ however was not sure whether this was really all.

"Has Hotch ever shown up at your place while you were on sick leave?"

"You know Prentiss and him have always had a special bond, ever since the Milwaukee case."

JJ nodded. She too had noticed that both dark-haired agents seemed to share a lot, both professionally and personally. Emily had been the one to search for him after Foyet, to keep an eye on him after his return. As for Hotch, he obviously held his newest agent in high esteem, often pairing himself up with her and letting her assist him in many occasions. But both were so secretive and shy that they would never dare to make a real personal move.

When a familiar silhouette walked into the bullpen, JJ's attention left Morgan, who immediately turned around. They waited a few minutes before joining Emily at her desk. She had made it clear the day before that she didn't want to be watched or protected by anyone, and would not accept any gesture of pity or compassion from her coworkers. As Derek had guessed, Emily just needed to get back to normal and forget about the last 72 hours.


	18. Chapter 18

_Authors' note: so, this story is coming to an end. I hope you enjoyed it, and I'm looking forward to more reviews. Thanks for all those who followed and commented the story. _

**Chapter 18: Drunken confessions**

**Emily watched as the barman handed over a bottle of bourbon to Morgan, and the tiny glasses began to be filled.** After this tiresome day, some team time was needed. Derek seemed an expert in filling a row of glasses without spilling any drop, the brunette noted as her eyes were set on the transparent alcohol. A warm hand came to rest on her back, and she turned to find JJ staring at her, with tears in her eyes.

"I said 'no crying'." Emily said with a smile, keeping her voice low so as not to attract all their coworkers' attention. The blonde swallowed her sadness and gladly accepted the shot Morgan offered her.

Emily looked around the table as they all raised their glasses. Next to JJ was seated Reid, whose face did not betray any emotion. The doctor's eyes were wandering over the group until they fell upon the glass he was holding, and he grimaced at the thought of having to ingurgitate the strong beverage. Derek was showing a brave face and had even greeted the group with a few jokes to lighten up the mood. On Emily's right were Rossi, Garcia and Hotch, all wearing quite neutral faces although you could guess the tears in the technician's eyes, behind her thick glasses. If the older agent hadn't been seated in-between, Emily would have pinched her female friend to get her mind off today's events.

Mimicking her coworkers, Emily approached the glass from her lips and threw her head backwards as the liquid burned her throat. Flashes of the cemetery invaded her mind. With the family's agreement, Emily had chosen to attend the funeral, only from a discreet spot. She had stopped a few feet behind the gathered group, and had made no move towards the Mayers. She only felt the need to be present. To her great surprise, Aaron Hotchner and the rest of the team had joined her just before the ceremony, standing silently at her side as she watched the family members each put a rose onto the coffin. She had blinked away the tears until Hotch's warm hand had taken hold of her elbow and she couldn't suppress her sorrow anymore. No one turned to comfort her, and she was glad for that. Her coworkers knew that she needed her privacy, and their mere presence already showed her all the support they were willing to give. Emily shook these thoughts away and concentrated back on the present time, and the next shot that was being poured.

"You, my darling, need a long and tiring dance." Emily had not even noticed that Morgan had sneaked behind her.

"Thanks for the kind offer, but what I need for now is another one of these glasses." Emily replied, gulping her second shot in one long mouthful.

Derek shot a look that was half-worried and half-amused to the rest of the group, and patted gently Emily's back.

"If this girl keeps up that rate, she'll need someone to drive her home."

He was the only one to notice Hotch's understanding nod, as he silently volunteered for the job. However his discreet offer did not go unnoticed, as Derek replied.

"Okay, Boss man has things in hands. So I am heading to the dance floor, after me…" Taking his seductive voice, he looked more particularly at Penelope, who was sipping at her cocktail. She had been the only one to refuse the alcohol contest. The others' eyes were torn between Hotch, who still looked as neutral as ever, and Emily, who did not glare at anyone. This was all but usual.

JJ's eyes lingered over her two colleagues dancing in the middle of the crowd, and she suppressed a laughter at the sight of the numerous beautiful women surrounding Derek, and the murderous glances that Penelope was sending his way. But her temporary role was to keep company to the grieving Emily, she decided, shifting her attention back to the brunette.

"Easy with that." She heard Rossi whisper as Emily was pouring herself another shot.

"I know what I am doing, Dave."

"I'm just saying that, if you want to keep up a little longer with the rest of us, you should slow down."

Hotch was eyeing the exchange closely although he did not say a word. When Emily had put the bottle back into the center of the table, Aaron Hotchner grabbed it and refilled his glass as well.

"Okay, I'm giving up!" Rossi stated, raising both hands in defeat. JJ chuckled while Reid seemed still a bit lost for words, not registering everything that was going on.

"Calm down, Dave. I'm done. Remember, I volunteered to drive." Hotch said with his usual boss-tone as he emptied the glass and smashed it back onto the table.

They were interrupted as Garcia's voice echoed from the dance floor.

"JJ, I need back up!" The blonde chuckled as she noticed that the analyst was losing against the troop of young women. She almost jumped off from her stool and put a firm hand on Emily's forearm. The look on her face was pleading and, although Emily's mind was a million miles away, she silently agreed to join her teammates on the dance floor. A strange way to grieve, but then, nothing was usual about this little group, whose lives turned around death and pain. The three men left around the table watched them walk away. JJ was wearing a classical white blouse and black trousers, while Emily's dress was knee-length and underlining her beautiful curves. She moved around freely although it was clear that she was not enjoying any moment of it. The alcohol made the process a lot easier.

"How do you think she is holding on?" Rossi turned to Hotch, who just shrugged without taking his eyes off the brunette.

"Dave, I don't have the monopoly of her confidence. Why is everyone asking me that?" His harsh reaction somehow startled his friend, who looked at Reid with surprise.

"Alright. Keep it to yourself. But so that you know, we _all _are worried about her."

Hotch did not move but his eyes narrowed at the comment. They were interrupted in their thoughts as Emily's angry voice came from the dancing corner.

**Emily had been trying awfully hard to set her mind on moving her legs and arms. **It took all her concentration to dance somewhat in rhythm. She had never been a very good dancer, but the concussion and the fact that she was not listening to the music didn't make things easier. She turned around as she felt that someone was brushing against her back. The smile the unknown man was directing at her did not let space for any misunderstanding. He was flirting, and she did not like that at all. After the second time his hand came in contact with some part of her anatomy, Emily prepared to turn around and snap. But before she had the time to follow her plan, she felt the man's hand brushing against her neck. In a split second, she was back in Eddy Schrader's kitchen, as his brother was smashing his gun onto the back of her skull to knock her off. It was not so much the pain that sent Emily over the edge – the bruising had now partially gone – but the mere contact made her shiver. She felt hot at once, way too hot.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" The anger she had been containing for the past days came out at full force, and the man shot her a despising look.

JJ and Derek's eyes followed the brunette as she marched off the dance floor, heading towards the exit without even stopping at the team's table. Garcia tugged her friend's sleeve repeatedly until he gave in and followed. But by the time he had tackled the troop of dancing women and reached the table where the other men were still seated, Hotch had already headed after his agent. Maybe it was for the best, Derek decided as she glanced back at the two blonde women, who had stopped dancing. If someone could get through to Emily, it was Aaron Hotchner.

**When Aaron walked into the dim street light, he looked for a few seconds through the crowd of smokers, who had gathered on both sides of the main entrance for their drug. **Emily wasn't one of them, but he soon saw her slim silhouette walk away. Either she had taken up a quick pace or Aaron had taken too much time pushing people out of the way, because he had to jog to get to Emily's level.

"Hey…" Hotch said, grabbing her forearm. Emily registered his presence although she did not stop nor slow down.

"Sorry about the outburst. I just needed some air."

"Don't worry. I'm pretty sure Morgan is currently kicking his ass. We can take a walk if you want."

"That's what I'm already doing, Hotch."

"Right… I meant I can walk with you, if you don't mind."

"I suppose you won't let me go alone even if I want to."

Hotch did not answer but his eyes narrowed. She was right though – with the few shots she had had already and the fact that she was unarmed, he would never let her walk on her own.

"What…?" he began, not knowing how to put the sentence.

"I had a flash back."

"Okay."

They passed by an empty bench and Hotch thought of suggesting a stop-over, but the brunette just kept walking. Before he could answer anything, Hotch's phone rang hysterically in his trouser pocket. He didn't want to interrupt, but the others would probably come after them if he didn't give them some kind of reassurance.

"Hotchner."

"Where are you?" Rossi's voice came through, a little less calm than usual.

"I… I think I'll bring Prentiss home."

"Your car keys are here – along with your wallet and jacket. Same for Emily."

"Crap." At the reaction, Emily turned slightly, thinking maybe they had to get back to work.

"We'll be back in a moment, then." Hotch finally said before hanging up. He didn't really look forward to getting back to this crowded and noisy bar, but they would hardly manage to walk back the ten miles to either one of their apartments, let alone get in without a key.

"It's okay, Hotch. We can go back." Emily said. From the looks in her eyes, she seemed to have regained some composure.

"Do you want to tell me about the flash back?" he offered, stopping in the middle of the pavement.

"Not really. It's just… been a long day." Hotch made a move forward though he wasn't sure whether he wanted to wrap an arm around her, pull her into a hug or just pat her on the shoulder. Whatever would not feel inappropriate for a supervisor and his agent.

"If you are going to hug me, at least give me some kind of warning, or I might very likely pull out my gun."

"You don't have your gun." He smirked.

"Well I can do a lot of harm with my bare hands." Her tired smile gave him more strength. He couldn't believe how quickly Emily Prentiss could turn her attitude around and go from the crumbling victim to the tough FBI agent.

"Good to know. Would you accept if I gave you some warning?"

"They are not coming after us, are they?" she looked around, worried that they might misunderstand the situation.

"No, they kept our belongings to make sure we wouldn't run away."

"Okay then. It's not like these past days haven't already been kind of strange."

Refraining a smile at her sarcasm, Hotch carefully leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her, inhaling deeply as he felt Emily relax in his grasp. Why they had become so used to these all but professional gestures, neither of them knew. Some underlying reasons were not hard to guess: Hotch was reliving his personal failures and trying to do with the women – woman – he cared about what he hadn't be able to do with Haley, that is offer protection and comfort. As for Emily, she had no one to turn to really. Her mother had known about the 'incident' but had not even travelled over. And if she already had lost her mask of neutrality in front of Hotch, she was not about to let the others through.

"How did it go with Joan and Peter Mayers, by the way?" If Emily's head had not been pressed against her superior's chest, she would have shaken her head to erase the memories. The sight of Joan in tears and the numerous pictures of a happy Lizzie they had shown her couldn't leave her mind and Emily felt tears well up in her eyes anew.

"She apologized."

"Good. She had no reason to do what she did." Emily pulled away from her supervisor, her eyes still locking with his.

"She was grieving."

"So are you." In some ways, Hotch was so much like Reid. You could never win a verbal battle with him. Plus, Emily's mind was not at rhetorical jousts for now.

"Do you want to see a picture?" she asked all of a sudden.

"Sure." Hotch raised an eyebrow. So Joan had gone from slapping Emily to share her daughter's life with her. The picture the brunette held out represented a young Lizzie – Hotch guessed she couldn't be more than ten. It was simple but beautiful.

"She looks so much like you." He couldn't help saying aloud, although he immediately regretted his comment when he saw the sadness invading his friend anew.

"It's hard to bear that the only memory I will keep of her is her birth – and her death." A shiver ran through Emily's body.

"You should try it anew, you know." It was probably not the best time to approach the subject, neither was it appropriate for the supervisor he was, but he had been willing to say this for the past days.

"What?"

"A child." Emily raised an eyebrow, quickly tucking the picture back into her pocket.

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Shouldn't I first find a father for that?"

"I'm just saying." Hotch shrugged. He would have suggested that there were many ways to do this nowadays, and that a proper father was no more needed if she really wanted a child, but he stopped himself. This really would be inappropriate.

"You're drunk, Hotch."

"What?" He almost burst in laughter at the sudden assumption.

"You wouldn't be suggesting such things if you were sober."

"Says the woman who downed four shots in a row. Whatever." He smirked at her before looking backwards, thinking they should probably head back before their teammates would declare them MIA.

"Come on, let's go back. I want to see if Morgan really kicked the other guy's ass." Hotch was a little taken aback when she slid an arm under his own. Maybe she was cold, he decided, patting the hand that was resting on his forearm in a very gentlemanlike way. Glancing sideways, Hotch could tell that something was fighting to get off his agent's lips, although she still was not decided to spill it. He guessed that it was a 'thank you', and squeezed her hand as a silent answer. Despite the grief and exhaustion in her features, Emily Prentiss looked beautiful tonight, as her eyes were lost somewhere in the distance. She was right, maybe he was a little drunk, to have such bizarre thoughts about his agent, he decided, tearing his eyes away from the brunette.

_The end._


End file.
